User login
How to explain physician compounding to legislators
In Ohio, new limits on drug compounding in physicians’ offices went into effect in April and have become a real hindrance to care for dermatology patients. The State of Ohio Board of Pharmacy has defined compounding as combining two or more prescription drugs and has required that physicians who perform this “compounding” must obtain a “Terminal Distributor of Dangerous Drugs” license. Ohio is the “test state,” and these rules, unless vigorously opposed, will be coming to your state.
[polldaddy:9779752]
The rules state that “compounded” drugs used within 6 hours of preparation must be prepared in a designated clean medication area with proper hand hygiene and the use of powder-free gloves. “Compounded” drugs that are used more than 6 hours after preparation, require a designated clean room with access limited to authorized personnel, environmental control devices such as a laminar flow hood, and additional equipment and training of personnel to maintain an aseptic environment. A separate license is required for each office location.
The state pharmacy boards are eager to restrict physicians – as well as dentists and veterinarians – and to collect annual licensing fees. Additionally, according to an article from the Ohio State Medical Association, noncompliant physicians can be fined by the pharmacy board.
We are talking big money, power, and dreams of clinical relevancy (and billable activities) here.
What can dermatologists do to prevent this regulatory overreach? I encourage you to plan a visit to your state representative, where you can demonstrate how these restrictions affect you and your patients – an exercise that should be both fun and compelling. All you need to illustrate your case is a simple kit that includes a syringe (but no needles in the statehouse!), a bottle of lidocaine with epinephrine, a bottle of 8.4% bicarbonate, alcohol pads, and gloves.
First, explain to your audience that there is a skin cancer epidemic with more than 5.4 million new cases a year and that, over the past 20 years, the incidence of skin cancer has doubled and is projected to double again over the next 20 years. Further, explain that dermatologists treat more than 70% of these cases in the office setting, under local anesthesia, at a huge cost savings to the public and government (it costs an average of 12 times as much to remove these cancers in the outpatient department at the hospital). Remember, states foot most of the bill for Medicaid and Medicare gap indigent coverage.
Take the bottle of lidocaine with epinephrine and open the syringe pack (Staffers love this demonstration; everyone is fascinated with shots.). Put on your gloves, wipe the top of the lidocaine bottle with an alcohol swab, and explain that this medicine is the anesthetic preferred for skin cancer surgery. Explain how it not only numbs the skin, but also causes vasoconstriction, so that the cancer can be easily and safely removed in the office.
Then explain that, in order for the epinephrine to be stable, the solution has to be very acidic (a pH of 4.2, in fact). Explain that this makes it burn like hell unless you add 0.1 cc per cc of 8.4% bicarbonate, in which case the perceived pain on a 10-point scale will drop from 8 to 2. Then pick up the bottle of bicarbonate and explain that you will no longer be able to mix these two components anymore without a “Terminal Distributor of Dangerous Drugs” license because your state pharmacy board considers this compounding. Your representative is likely to give you looks of astonishment, disbelief, and then a dawning realization of the absurdity of the situation.
Follow-up questions may include “Why can’t you buy buffered lidocaine with epinephrine from the compounding pharmacy?” Easy answer: because each patient needs an individual prescription, and you may not know in advance which patient will need it, and how much the patient will need, and it becomes unstable once it has been buffered. It also will cost the patient $45 per 5-cc syringe, and it will be degraded by the time the patient returns from the compounding pharmacy. Explain further that it costs you only 84 cents to make a 5-cc syringe of buffered lidocaine; that some patients may need as many as 10 syringes; and that these costs are all included in the surgery (free!) if the physician draws it up in the office.
A simple summary is – less pain, less cost – and no history of infections or complications.
It is an eye-opener when you demonstrate how ridiculous the compounding rules being imposed are for physicians and patients. I’ve used this demonstration at the state and federal legislative level, and more recently, at the Food and Drug Administration.
If you get the chance, when a state legislator is in your office, become an advocate for your patients and fellow physicians. Make sure physician offices are excluded from these definitions of com
This column was updated June 22, 2017.
Dr. Coldiron is in private practice but maintains a clinical assistant professorship at the University of Cincinnati. He cares for patients, teaches medical students and residents, and has several active clinical research projects. Dr. Coldiron is the author of more than 80 scientific letters, papers, and several book chapters, and he speaks frequently on a variety of topics. He is a past president of the American Academy of Dermatology. Write to him at dermnews@frontlinemedcom.com.
In Ohio, new limits on drug compounding in physicians’ offices went into effect in April and have become a real hindrance to care for dermatology patients. The State of Ohio Board of Pharmacy has defined compounding as combining two or more prescription drugs and has required that physicians who perform this “compounding” must obtain a “Terminal Distributor of Dangerous Drugs” license. Ohio is the “test state,” and these rules, unless vigorously opposed, will be coming to your state.
[polldaddy:9779752]
The rules state that “compounded” drugs used within 6 hours of preparation must be prepared in a designated clean medication area with proper hand hygiene and the use of powder-free gloves. “Compounded” drugs that are used more than 6 hours after preparation, require a designated clean room with access limited to authorized personnel, environmental control devices such as a laminar flow hood, and additional equipment and training of personnel to maintain an aseptic environment. A separate license is required for each office location.
The state pharmacy boards are eager to restrict physicians – as well as dentists and veterinarians – and to collect annual licensing fees. Additionally, according to an article from the Ohio State Medical Association, noncompliant physicians can be fined by the pharmacy board.
We are talking big money, power, and dreams of clinical relevancy (and billable activities) here.
What can dermatologists do to prevent this regulatory overreach? I encourage you to plan a visit to your state representative, where you can demonstrate how these restrictions affect you and your patients – an exercise that should be both fun and compelling. All you need to illustrate your case is a simple kit that includes a syringe (but no needles in the statehouse!), a bottle of lidocaine with epinephrine, a bottle of 8.4% bicarbonate, alcohol pads, and gloves.
First, explain to your audience that there is a skin cancer epidemic with more than 5.4 million new cases a year and that, over the past 20 years, the incidence of skin cancer has doubled and is projected to double again over the next 20 years. Further, explain that dermatologists treat more than 70% of these cases in the office setting, under local anesthesia, at a huge cost savings to the public and government (it costs an average of 12 times as much to remove these cancers in the outpatient department at the hospital). Remember, states foot most of the bill for Medicaid and Medicare gap indigent coverage.
Take the bottle of lidocaine with epinephrine and open the syringe pack (Staffers love this demonstration; everyone is fascinated with shots.). Put on your gloves, wipe the top of the lidocaine bottle with an alcohol swab, and explain that this medicine is the anesthetic preferred for skin cancer surgery. Explain how it not only numbs the skin, but also causes vasoconstriction, so that the cancer can be easily and safely removed in the office.
Then explain that, in order for the epinephrine to be stable, the solution has to be very acidic (a pH of 4.2, in fact). Explain that this makes it burn like hell unless you add 0.1 cc per cc of 8.4% bicarbonate, in which case the perceived pain on a 10-point scale will drop from 8 to 2. Then pick up the bottle of bicarbonate and explain that you will no longer be able to mix these two components anymore without a “Terminal Distributor of Dangerous Drugs” license because your state pharmacy board considers this compounding. Your representative is likely to give you looks of astonishment, disbelief, and then a dawning realization of the absurdity of the situation.
Follow-up questions may include “Why can’t you buy buffered lidocaine with epinephrine from the compounding pharmacy?” Easy answer: because each patient needs an individual prescription, and you may not know in advance which patient will need it, and how much the patient will need, and it becomes unstable once it has been buffered. It also will cost the patient $45 per 5-cc syringe, and it will be degraded by the time the patient returns from the compounding pharmacy. Explain further that it costs you only 84 cents to make a 5-cc syringe of buffered lidocaine; that some patients may need as many as 10 syringes; and that these costs are all included in the surgery (free!) if the physician draws it up in the office.
A simple summary is – less pain, less cost – and no history of infections or complications.
It is an eye-opener when you demonstrate how ridiculous the compounding rules being imposed are for physicians and patients. I’ve used this demonstration at the state and federal legislative level, and more recently, at the Food and Drug Administration.
If you get the chance, when a state legislator is in your office, become an advocate for your patients and fellow physicians. Make sure physician offices are excluded from these definitions of com
This column was updated June 22, 2017.
Dr. Coldiron is in private practice but maintains a clinical assistant professorship at the University of Cincinnati. He cares for patients, teaches medical students and residents, and has several active clinical research projects. Dr. Coldiron is the author of more than 80 scientific letters, papers, and several book chapters, and he speaks frequently on a variety of topics. He is a past president of the American Academy of Dermatology. Write to him at dermnews@frontlinemedcom.com.
In Ohio, new limits on drug compounding in physicians’ offices went into effect in April and have become a real hindrance to care for dermatology patients. The State of Ohio Board of Pharmacy has defined compounding as combining two or more prescription drugs and has required that physicians who perform this “compounding” must obtain a “Terminal Distributor of Dangerous Drugs” license. Ohio is the “test state,” and these rules, unless vigorously opposed, will be coming to your state.
[polldaddy:9779752]
The rules state that “compounded” drugs used within 6 hours of preparation must be prepared in a designated clean medication area with proper hand hygiene and the use of powder-free gloves. “Compounded” drugs that are used more than 6 hours after preparation, require a designated clean room with access limited to authorized personnel, environmental control devices such as a laminar flow hood, and additional equipment and training of personnel to maintain an aseptic environment. A separate license is required for each office location.
The state pharmacy boards are eager to restrict physicians – as well as dentists and veterinarians – and to collect annual licensing fees. Additionally, according to an article from the Ohio State Medical Association, noncompliant physicians can be fined by the pharmacy board.
We are talking big money, power, and dreams of clinical relevancy (and billable activities) here.
What can dermatologists do to prevent this regulatory overreach? I encourage you to plan a visit to your state representative, where you can demonstrate how these restrictions affect you and your patients – an exercise that should be both fun and compelling. All you need to illustrate your case is a simple kit that includes a syringe (but no needles in the statehouse!), a bottle of lidocaine with epinephrine, a bottle of 8.4% bicarbonate, alcohol pads, and gloves.
First, explain to your audience that there is a skin cancer epidemic with more than 5.4 million new cases a year and that, over the past 20 years, the incidence of skin cancer has doubled and is projected to double again over the next 20 years. Further, explain that dermatologists treat more than 70% of these cases in the office setting, under local anesthesia, at a huge cost savings to the public and government (it costs an average of 12 times as much to remove these cancers in the outpatient department at the hospital). Remember, states foot most of the bill for Medicaid and Medicare gap indigent coverage.
Take the bottle of lidocaine with epinephrine and open the syringe pack (Staffers love this demonstration; everyone is fascinated with shots.). Put on your gloves, wipe the top of the lidocaine bottle with an alcohol swab, and explain that this medicine is the anesthetic preferred for skin cancer surgery. Explain how it not only numbs the skin, but also causes vasoconstriction, so that the cancer can be easily and safely removed in the office.
Then explain that, in order for the epinephrine to be stable, the solution has to be very acidic (a pH of 4.2, in fact). Explain that this makes it burn like hell unless you add 0.1 cc per cc of 8.4% bicarbonate, in which case the perceived pain on a 10-point scale will drop from 8 to 2. Then pick up the bottle of bicarbonate and explain that you will no longer be able to mix these two components anymore without a “Terminal Distributor of Dangerous Drugs” license because your state pharmacy board considers this compounding. Your representative is likely to give you looks of astonishment, disbelief, and then a dawning realization of the absurdity of the situation.
Follow-up questions may include “Why can’t you buy buffered lidocaine with epinephrine from the compounding pharmacy?” Easy answer: because each patient needs an individual prescription, and you may not know in advance which patient will need it, and how much the patient will need, and it becomes unstable once it has been buffered. It also will cost the patient $45 per 5-cc syringe, and it will be degraded by the time the patient returns from the compounding pharmacy. Explain further that it costs you only 84 cents to make a 5-cc syringe of buffered lidocaine; that some patients may need as many as 10 syringes; and that these costs are all included in the surgery (free!) if the physician draws it up in the office.
A simple summary is – less pain, less cost – and no history of infections or complications.
It is an eye-opener when you demonstrate how ridiculous the compounding rules being imposed are for physicians and patients. I’ve used this demonstration at the state and federal legislative level, and more recently, at the Food and Drug Administration.
If you get the chance, when a state legislator is in your office, become an advocate for your patients and fellow physicians. Make sure physician offices are excluded from these definitions of com
This column was updated June 22, 2017.
Dr. Coldiron is in private practice but maintains a clinical assistant professorship at the University of Cincinnati. He cares for patients, teaches medical students and residents, and has several active clinical research projects. Dr. Coldiron is the author of more than 80 scientific letters, papers, and several book chapters, and he speaks frequently on a variety of topics. He is a past president of the American Academy of Dermatology. Write to him at dermnews@frontlinemedcom.com.
E-Bikes: The Good ... and the Ugly
Bicycles have been woven into my life since I first straddled a hand-me-down with a fan belt drive when I was 3. At age 12 my friend Ricky and I took a 250 mile–plus 2-night adventure on our 3-speed “English” style bikes. We still marvel that our parents let us do it when neither cell phones nor GPS existed.
I have always bike commuted to work, including the years when that involved a perilous navigation into Boston from the suburbs. In our mid-50s my wife and I biked from Washington state back here to Maine with another couple unsupported. We continue to do at least one self-guided cycle tour out of the country each year.
Not surprisingly, I keep a close eye on what’s happening in the bicycle market. For decades the trends have shifted back and forth between sleek road models and beefier off-roaders. There have been boom years here and there for the dealers and manufacturers, but nothing like what the bike industry is experiencing now with the arrival of e-bikes on the market. Driven primarily by electrification, micromobility ridership (which includes conventional bikes and scooters) has grown more than 50-fold over the last 10 years. Projections suggest the market’s value will be $300 billion by 2030.
It doesn’t take an MBA with a major in marketing to understand the broad appeal of electrification. Most adults have ridden a bicycle as children, but several decades of gap years has left many of them with a level of fitness that makes pedaling against the wind or up any incline difficult and unappealing. An e-bike can put even the least fitness conscious back in the saddle and open the options for outdoor recreation they haven’t dreamed of since childhood.
In large part the people flocking to e-bikes are retiree’s who thought they were “over the hill.” They are having so much fun they don’t care if the Lycra-clad “serious” cyclists notice the battery bulge in the frame on their e-bikes. Another group of e-bike adopters are motivated by the “greenness” of a fossil-fuel–free electric powered transportation which, with minimal compromise, can be used as they would a car around town and for longer commutes than they would have considered on a purely pedal-powered bicycle.
Unfortunately, there is a growing group of younger e-bike riders who are motivated and uninhibited by the potential that the power boost of a small electric motor can provide. And here is where the ugliness begins to intrude on what was otherwise a beautiful and expanding landscape. However, it is the young who are, not surprisingly, drawn to the speed, and with any vehicle – motorized or conventional – as speed increases so does the frequency and seriousness of accidents.
The term e-bike covers a broad range of vehicles, from those designated class 1, which require pedaling and are limited to 20 miles per hour, to class 3, which may have a throttle and unmodified can hit 28 mph. Class 2 bikes have a throttle that will allow the rider to reach 20 mph without pedaling. Modifying any class of e-bike can substantially increase its speed, but this is more common in classes 2 and 3. As an example, some very fast micromobiles are considered unclassified e-bikes and avoid being labeled motorcycles simply because they have pedals.
One has to give some credit to the e-bike industry for eventually adopting this classification system. But, we must give the rest of us, including parents and public safety officials, a failing grade for doing a poor job of translating these scores into enforceable regulations to protect both riders and pedestrians from serious injury.
On the governmental side only a little more than half of US states have used the three category classification to craft their regulations. Many jurisdictions have failed to differentiate between streets, sidewalks, and trails. Regulations vary from state to state, and many states leave it up to local communities. From my experience chairing our town’s Bicycle and Pedestrian Advisory Committee, I can tell you that even “progressive” communities are struggling to decide who can ride what where. The result has been that people of all ages, but mostly adolescents, are traveling on busy streets and sidewalks at speeds that put themselves and pedestrians at risk.
On the parental side of the problem are families that have either allowed or enabled their children to ride class 2 and 3 e-bikes without proper safety equipment or consideration for the safety of the rest of the community. Currently, this is not much of a problem here in Maine thanks to the weather and the high price of e-bikes. However, I frequently visit an affluent community in the San Francisco Bay Area, where it is not uncommon to see middle school children speeding along well in excess of 20 mph.
Unfortunately this is another example, like television and cell phone, in which our society has been unable to keep up with technology by molding the behavior of our children and/or creating enforceable rules that allow us to reap the benefits of new discoveries while minimizing the collateral damage that can accompany them.
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.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.
Bicycles have been woven into my life since I first straddled a hand-me-down with a fan belt drive when I was 3. At age 12 my friend Ricky and I took a 250 mile–plus 2-night adventure on our 3-speed “English” style bikes. We still marvel that our parents let us do it when neither cell phones nor GPS existed.
I have always bike commuted to work, including the years when that involved a perilous navigation into Boston from the suburbs. In our mid-50s my wife and I biked from Washington state back here to Maine with another couple unsupported. We continue to do at least one self-guided cycle tour out of the country each year.
Not surprisingly, I keep a close eye on what’s happening in the bicycle market. For decades the trends have shifted back and forth between sleek road models and beefier off-roaders. There have been boom years here and there for the dealers and manufacturers, but nothing like what the bike industry is experiencing now with the arrival of e-bikes on the market. Driven primarily by electrification, micromobility ridership (which includes conventional bikes and scooters) has grown more than 50-fold over the last 10 years. Projections suggest the market’s value will be $300 billion by 2030.
It doesn’t take an MBA with a major in marketing to understand the broad appeal of electrification. Most adults have ridden a bicycle as children, but several decades of gap years has left many of them with a level of fitness that makes pedaling against the wind or up any incline difficult and unappealing. An e-bike can put even the least fitness conscious back in the saddle and open the options for outdoor recreation they haven’t dreamed of since childhood.
In large part the people flocking to e-bikes are retiree’s who thought they were “over the hill.” They are having so much fun they don’t care if the Lycra-clad “serious” cyclists notice the battery bulge in the frame on their e-bikes. Another group of e-bike adopters are motivated by the “greenness” of a fossil-fuel–free electric powered transportation which, with minimal compromise, can be used as they would a car around town and for longer commutes than they would have considered on a purely pedal-powered bicycle.
Unfortunately, there is a growing group of younger e-bike riders who are motivated and uninhibited by the potential that the power boost of a small electric motor can provide. And here is where the ugliness begins to intrude on what was otherwise a beautiful and expanding landscape. However, it is the young who are, not surprisingly, drawn to the speed, and with any vehicle – motorized or conventional – as speed increases so does the frequency and seriousness of accidents.
The term e-bike covers a broad range of vehicles, from those designated class 1, which require pedaling and are limited to 20 miles per hour, to class 3, which may have a throttle and unmodified can hit 28 mph. Class 2 bikes have a throttle that will allow the rider to reach 20 mph without pedaling. Modifying any class of e-bike can substantially increase its speed, but this is more common in classes 2 and 3. As an example, some very fast micromobiles are considered unclassified e-bikes and avoid being labeled motorcycles simply because they have pedals.
One has to give some credit to the e-bike industry for eventually adopting this classification system. But, we must give the rest of us, including parents and public safety officials, a failing grade for doing a poor job of translating these scores into enforceable regulations to protect both riders and pedestrians from serious injury.
On the governmental side only a little more than half of US states have used the three category classification to craft their regulations. Many jurisdictions have failed to differentiate between streets, sidewalks, and trails. Regulations vary from state to state, and many states leave it up to local communities. From my experience chairing our town’s Bicycle and Pedestrian Advisory Committee, I can tell you that even “progressive” communities are struggling to decide who can ride what where. The result has been that people of all ages, but mostly adolescents, are traveling on busy streets and sidewalks at speeds that put themselves and pedestrians at risk.
On the parental side of the problem are families that have either allowed or enabled their children to ride class 2 and 3 e-bikes without proper safety equipment or consideration for the safety of the rest of the community. Currently, this is not much of a problem here in Maine thanks to the weather and the high price of e-bikes. However, I frequently visit an affluent community in the San Francisco Bay Area, where it is not uncommon to see middle school children speeding along well in excess of 20 mph.
Unfortunately this is another example, like television and cell phone, in which our society has been unable to keep up with technology by molding the behavior of our children and/or creating enforceable rules that allow us to reap the benefits of new discoveries while minimizing the collateral damage that can accompany them.
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.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.
Bicycles have been woven into my life since I first straddled a hand-me-down with a fan belt drive when I was 3. At age 12 my friend Ricky and I took a 250 mile–plus 2-night adventure on our 3-speed “English” style bikes. We still marvel that our parents let us do it when neither cell phones nor GPS existed.
I have always bike commuted to work, including the years when that involved a perilous navigation into Boston from the suburbs. In our mid-50s my wife and I biked from Washington state back here to Maine with another couple unsupported. We continue to do at least one self-guided cycle tour out of the country each year.
Not surprisingly, I keep a close eye on what’s happening in the bicycle market. For decades the trends have shifted back and forth between sleek road models and beefier off-roaders. There have been boom years here and there for the dealers and manufacturers, but nothing like what the bike industry is experiencing now with the arrival of e-bikes on the market. Driven primarily by electrification, micromobility ridership (which includes conventional bikes and scooters) has grown more than 50-fold over the last 10 years. Projections suggest the market’s value will be $300 billion by 2030.
It doesn’t take an MBA with a major in marketing to understand the broad appeal of electrification. Most adults have ridden a bicycle as children, but several decades of gap years has left many of them with a level of fitness that makes pedaling against the wind or up any incline difficult and unappealing. An e-bike can put even the least fitness conscious back in the saddle and open the options for outdoor recreation they haven’t dreamed of since childhood.
In large part the people flocking to e-bikes are retiree’s who thought they were “over the hill.” They are having so much fun they don’t care if the Lycra-clad “serious” cyclists notice the battery bulge in the frame on their e-bikes. Another group of e-bike adopters are motivated by the “greenness” of a fossil-fuel–free electric powered transportation which, with minimal compromise, can be used as they would a car around town and for longer commutes than they would have considered on a purely pedal-powered bicycle.
Unfortunately, there is a growing group of younger e-bike riders who are motivated and uninhibited by the potential that the power boost of a small electric motor can provide. And here is where the ugliness begins to intrude on what was otherwise a beautiful and expanding landscape. However, it is the young who are, not surprisingly, drawn to the speed, and with any vehicle – motorized or conventional – as speed increases so does the frequency and seriousness of accidents.
The term e-bike covers a broad range of vehicles, from those designated class 1, which require pedaling and are limited to 20 miles per hour, to class 3, which may have a throttle and unmodified can hit 28 mph. Class 2 bikes have a throttle that will allow the rider to reach 20 mph without pedaling. Modifying any class of e-bike can substantially increase its speed, but this is more common in classes 2 and 3. As an example, some very fast micromobiles are considered unclassified e-bikes and avoid being labeled motorcycles simply because they have pedals.
One has to give some credit to the e-bike industry for eventually adopting this classification system. But, we must give the rest of us, including parents and public safety officials, a failing grade for doing a poor job of translating these scores into enforceable regulations to protect both riders and pedestrians from serious injury.
On the governmental side only a little more than half of US states have used the three category classification to craft their regulations. Many jurisdictions have failed to differentiate between streets, sidewalks, and trails. Regulations vary from state to state, and many states leave it up to local communities. From my experience chairing our town’s Bicycle and Pedestrian Advisory Committee, I can tell you that even “progressive” communities are struggling to decide who can ride what where. The result has been that people of all ages, but mostly adolescents, are traveling on busy streets and sidewalks at speeds that put themselves and pedestrians at risk.
On the parental side of the problem are families that have either allowed or enabled their children to ride class 2 and 3 e-bikes without proper safety equipment or consideration for the safety of the rest of the community. Currently, this is not much of a problem here in Maine thanks to the weather and the high price of e-bikes. However, I frequently visit an affluent community in the San Francisco Bay Area, where it is not uncommon to see middle school children speeding along well in excess of 20 mph.
Unfortunately this is another example, like television and cell phone, in which our society has been unable to keep up with technology by molding the behavior of our children and/or creating enforceable rules that allow us to reap the benefits of new discoveries while minimizing the collateral damage that can accompany them.
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.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.
Viral Season 2024-2025: Try for An Ounce of Prevention
We are quickly approaching the typical cold and flu season. But can we call anything typical since 2020? Since 2020, there have been different recommendations for prevention, testing, return to work, and treatment since our world was rocked by the pandemic. Now that we are in the “post-pandemic” era, family physicians and other primary care professionals are the front line for discussions on prevention, evaluation, and treatment of the typical upper-respiratory infections, influenza, and COVID-19.
Let’s start with prevention. We have all heard the old adage, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. In primary care, we need to focus on prevention. Vaccination is often one of our best tools against the myriad of infections we are hoping to help patients prevent during cold and flu season. Most recently, we have fall vaccinations aimed to prevent COVID-19, influenza, and respiratory syncytial virus (RSV).
The number and timing of each of these vaccinations has different recommendations based on a variety of factors including age, pregnancy status, and whether or not the patient is immunocompromised. For the 2024-2025 season, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has recommended updated vaccines for both influenza and COVID-19.1 They have also updated the RSV vaccine recommendations to “People 75 or older, or between 60-74 with certain chronic health conditions or living in a nursing home should get one dose of the RSV vaccine to provide an extra layer of protection.”2
In addition to vaccines as prevention, there is also hygiene, staying home when sick and away from others who are sick, following guidelines for where and when to wear a face mask, and the general tools of eating well, and getting sufficient sleep and exercise to help maintain the healthiest immune system.
Despite the best of intentions, there will still be many who experience viral infections in this upcoming season. The CDC is currently recommending persons to stay away from others for at least 24 hours after their symptoms improve and they are fever-free without antipyretics. In addition to isolation while sick, general symptom management is something that we can recommend for all of these illnesses.
There is more to consider, though, as our patients face these illnesses. The first question is how to determine the diagnosis — and if that diagnosis is even necessary. Unfortunately, many of these viral illnesses can look the same. They can all cause fevers, chills, and other upper respiratory symptoms. They are all fairly contagious. All of these viruses can cause serious illness associated with additional complications. It is not truly possible to determine which virus someone has by symptoms alone, our patients can have multiple viruses at the same time and diagnosis of one does not preclude having another.3
Instead, we truly do need a test for diagnosis. In-office testing is available for RSV, influenza, and COVID-19. Additionally, despite not being as freely available as they were during the pandemic, patients are able to do home COVID tests and then call in with their results. At the time of writing this, at-home rapid influenza tests have also been approved by the FDA but are not yet readily available to the public. These tests are important for determining if the patient is eligible for treatment. Both influenza and COVID-19 have antiviral treatments available to help decrease the severity of the illness and potentially the length of illness and time contagious. According to the CDC, both treatments are underutilized.
This could be because of a lack of testing and diagnosis. It may also be because of a lack of familiarity with the available treatments.4,5Influenza treatment is recommended as soon as possible for those with suspected or confirmed diagnosis, immediately for anyone hospitalized, anyone with severe, complicated, or progressing illness, and for those at high risk of severe illness including but not limited to those under 2 years old, those over 65, those who are pregnant, and those with many chronic conditions.
Treatment can also be used for those who are not high risk when diagnosed within 48 hours. In the United States, four antivirals are recommended to treat influenza: oseltamivir phosphate, zanamivir, peramivir, and baloxavir marboxil. For COVID-19, treatments are also available for mild or moderate disease in those at risk for severe disease. Both remdesivir and nimatrelvir with ritonavir are treatment options that can be used for COVID-19 infection. Unfortunately, no specific antiviral is available for the other viral illnesses we see often during this season.
In primary care, we have some important roles to play. We need to continue to discuss all methods of prevention. Not only do vaccine recommendations change at least annually, our patients’ situations change and we have to reassess them. Additionally, people often need to hear things more than once before committing — so it never hurts to continue having those conversations. Combining the conversation about vaccines with other prevention measures is also important so that it does not seem like we are only recommending one thing. We should also start talking about treatment options before our patients are sick. We can communicate what is available as long as they let us know they are sick early. We can also be there to help our patients determine when they are at risk for severe illness and when they should consider a higher level of care.
The availability of home testing gives us the opportunity to provide these treatments via telehealth and even potentially in times when these illnesses are everywhere — with standing orders with our clinical teams. Although it is a busy time for us in the clinic, “cold and flu” season is definitely one of those times when our primary care relationship can truly help our patients.
References
1. CDC Recommends Updated 2024-2025 COVID-19 and Flu Vaccines for Fall/Winter Virus Season. https://www.cdc.gov/media/releases/2024/s-t0627-vaccine-recommendations.html. Accessed August 8, 2024. Source: Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
2. CDC Updates RSV Vaccination Recommendation for Adults. https://www.cdc.gov/media/releases/2024/s-0626-vaccination-adults.html. Accessed August 8, 2024. Source: Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
3. Similarities and Differences between Flu and COVID-19. https://www.cdc.gov/flu/symptoms/flu-vs-covid19.htm. Accessed August 8, 2024. Source: Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, National Center for Immunization and Respiratory Diseases.
4. Respiratory Virus Guidance. https://www.cdc.gov/respiratory-viruses/guidance/index.html. Accessed August 9, 2024. Source: National Center for Immunization and Respiratory Diseases.
5. Provider Toolkit: Preparing Patients for the Fall and Winter Virus Season. https://www.cdc.gov/respiratory-viruses/hcp/tools-resources/index.html. Accessed August 9, 2024. Source: Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
We are quickly approaching the typical cold and flu season. But can we call anything typical since 2020? Since 2020, there have been different recommendations for prevention, testing, return to work, and treatment since our world was rocked by the pandemic. Now that we are in the “post-pandemic” era, family physicians and other primary care professionals are the front line for discussions on prevention, evaluation, and treatment of the typical upper-respiratory infections, influenza, and COVID-19.
Let’s start with prevention. We have all heard the old adage, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. In primary care, we need to focus on prevention. Vaccination is often one of our best tools against the myriad of infections we are hoping to help patients prevent during cold and flu season. Most recently, we have fall vaccinations aimed to prevent COVID-19, influenza, and respiratory syncytial virus (RSV).
The number and timing of each of these vaccinations has different recommendations based on a variety of factors including age, pregnancy status, and whether or not the patient is immunocompromised. For the 2024-2025 season, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has recommended updated vaccines for both influenza and COVID-19.1 They have also updated the RSV vaccine recommendations to “People 75 or older, or between 60-74 with certain chronic health conditions or living in a nursing home should get one dose of the RSV vaccine to provide an extra layer of protection.”2
In addition to vaccines as prevention, there is also hygiene, staying home when sick and away from others who are sick, following guidelines for where and when to wear a face mask, and the general tools of eating well, and getting sufficient sleep and exercise to help maintain the healthiest immune system.
Despite the best of intentions, there will still be many who experience viral infections in this upcoming season. The CDC is currently recommending persons to stay away from others for at least 24 hours after their symptoms improve and they are fever-free without antipyretics. In addition to isolation while sick, general symptom management is something that we can recommend for all of these illnesses.
There is more to consider, though, as our patients face these illnesses. The first question is how to determine the diagnosis — and if that diagnosis is even necessary. Unfortunately, many of these viral illnesses can look the same. They can all cause fevers, chills, and other upper respiratory symptoms. They are all fairly contagious. All of these viruses can cause serious illness associated with additional complications. It is not truly possible to determine which virus someone has by symptoms alone, our patients can have multiple viruses at the same time and diagnosis of one does not preclude having another.3
Instead, we truly do need a test for diagnosis. In-office testing is available for RSV, influenza, and COVID-19. Additionally, despite not being as freely available as they were during the pandemic, patients are able to do home COVID tests and then call in with their results. At the time of writing this, at-home rapid influenza tests have also been approved by the FDA but are not yet readily available to the public. These tests are important for determining if the patient is eligible for treatment. Both influenza and COVID-19 have antiviral treatments available to help decrease the severity of the illness and potentially the length of illness and time contagious. According to the CDC, both treatments are underutilized.
This could be because of a lack of testing and diagnosis. It may also be because of a lack of familiarity with the available treatments.4,5Influenza treatment is recommended as soon as possible for those with suspected or confirmed diagnosis, immediately for anyone hospitalized, anyone with severe, complicated, or progressing illness, and for those at high risk of severe illness including but not limited to those under 2 years old, those over 65, those who are pregnant, and those with many chronic conditions.
Treatment can also be used for those who are not high risk when diagnosed within 48 hours. In the United States, four antivirals are recommended to treat influenza: oseltamivir phosphate, zanamivir, peramivir, and baloxavir marboxil. For COVID-19, treatments are also available for mild or moderate disease in those at risk for severe disease. Both remdesivir and nimatrelvir with ritonavir are treatment options that can be used for COVID-19 infection. Unfortunately, no specific antiviral is available for the other viral illnesses we see often during this season.
In primary care, we have some important roles to play. We need to continue to discuss all methods of prevention. Not only do vaccine recommendations change at least annually, our patients’ situations change and we have to reassess them. Additionally, people often need to hear things more than once before committing — so it never hurts to continue having those conversations. Combining the conversation about vaccines with other prevention measures is also important so that it does not seem like we are only recommending one thing. We should also start talking about treatment options before our patients are sick. We can communicate what is available as long as they let us know they are sick early. We can also be there to help our patients determine when they are at risk for severe illness and when they should consider a higher level of care.
The availability of home testing gives us the opportunity to provide these treatments via telehealth and even potentially in times when these illnesses are everywhere — with standing orders with our clinical teams. Although it is a busy time for us in the clinic, “cold and flu” season is definitely one of those times when our primary care relationship can truly help our patients.
References
1. CDC Recommends Updated 2024-2025 COVID-19 and Flu Vaccines for Fall/Winter Virus Season. https://www.cdc.gov/media/releases/2024/s-t0627-vaccine-recommendations.html. Accessed August 8, 2024. Source: Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
2. CDC Updates RSV Vaccination Recommendation for Adults. https://www.cdc.gov/media/releases/2024/s-0626-vaccination-adults.html. Accessed August 8, 2024. Source: Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
3. Similarities and Differences between Flu and COVID-19. https://www.cdc.gov/flu/symptoms/flu-vs-covid19.htm. Accessed August 8, 2024. Source: Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, National Center for Immunization and Respiratory Diseases.
4. Respiratory Virus Guidance. https://www.cdc.gov/respiratory-viruses/guidance/index.html. Accessed August 9, 2024. Source: National Center for Immunization and Respiratory Diseases.
5. Provider Toolkit: Preparing Patients for the Fall and Winter Virus Season. https://www.cdc.gov/respiratory-viruses/hcp/tools-resources/index.html. Accessed August 9, 2024. Source: Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
We are quickly approaching the typical cold and flu season. But can we call anything typical since 2020? Since 2020, there have been different recommendations for prevention, testing, return to work, and treatment since our world was rocked by the pandemic. Now that we are in the “post-pandemic” era, family physicians and other primary care professionals are the front line for discussions on prevention, evaluation, and treatment of the typical upper-respiratory infections, influenza, and COVID-19.
Let’s start with prevention. We have all heard the old adage, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. In primary care, we need to focus on prevention. Vaccination is often one of our best tools against the myriad of infections we are hoping to help patients prevent during cold and flu season. Most recently, we have fall vaccinations aimed to prevent COVID-19, influenza, and respiratory syncytial virus (RSV).
The number and timing of each of these vaccinations has different recommendations based on a variety of factors including age, pregnancy status, and whether or not the patient is immunocompromised. For the 2024-2025 season, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has recommended updated vaccines for both influenza and COVID-19.1 They have also updated the RSV vaccine recommendations to “People 75 or older, or between 60-74 with certain chronic health conditions or living in a nursing home should get one dose of the RSV vaccine to provide an extra layer of protection.”2
In addition to vaccines as prevention, there is also hygiene, staying home when sick and away from others who are sick, following guidelines for where and when to wear a face mask, and the general tools of eating well, and getting sufficient sleep and exercise to help maintain the healthiest immune system.
Despite the best of intentions, there will still be many who experience viral infections in this upcoming season. The CDC is currently recommending persons to stay away from others for at least 24 hours after their symptoms improve and they are fever-free without antipyretics. In addition to isolation while sick, general symptom management is something that we can recommend for all of these illnesses.
There is more to consider, though, as our patients face these illnesses. The first question is how to determine the diagnosis — and if that diagnosis is even necessary. Unfortunately, many of these viral illnesses can look the same. They can all cause fevers, chills, and other upper respiratory symptoms. They are all fairly contagious. All of these viruses can cause serious illness associated with additional complications. It is not truly possible to determine which virus someone has by symptoms alone, our patients can have multiple viruses at the same time and diagnosis of one does not preclude having another.3
Instead, we truly do need a test for diagnosis. In-office testing is available for RSV, influenza, and COVID-19. Additionally, despite not being as freely available as they were during the pandemic, patients are able to do home COVID tests and then call in with their results. At the time of writing this, at-home rapid influenza tests have also been approved by the FDA but are not yet readily available to the public. These tests are important for determining if the patient is eligible for treatment. Both influenza and COVID-19 have antiviral treatments available to help decrease the severity of the illness and potentially the length of illness and time contagious. According to the CDC, both treatments are underutilized.
This could be because of a lack of testing and diagnosis. It may also be because of a lack of familiarity with the available treatments.4,5Influenza treatment is recommended as soon as possible for those with suspected or confirmed diagnosis, immediately for anyone hospitalized, anyone with severe, complicated, or progressing illness, and for those at high risk of severe illness including but not limited to those under 2 years old, those over 65, those who are pregnant, and those with many chronic conditions.
Treatment can also be used for those who are not high risk when diagnosed within 48 hours. In the United States, four antivirals are recommended to treat influenza: oseltamivir phosphate, zanamivir, peramivir, and baloxavir marboxil. For COVID-19, treatments are also available for mild or moderate disease in those at risk for severe disease. Both remdesivir and nimatrelvir with ritonavir are treatment options that can be used for COVID-19 infection. Unfortunately, no specific antiviral is available for the other viral illnesses we see often during this season.
In primary care, we have some important roles to play. We need to continue to discuss all methods of prevention. Not only do vaccine recommendations change at least annually, our patients’ situations change and we have to reassess them. Additionally, people often need to hear things more than once before committing — so it never hurts to continue having those conversations. Combining the conversation about vaccines with other prevention measures is also important so that it does not seem like we are only recommending one thing. We should also start talking about treatment options before our patients are sick. We can communicate what is available as long as they let us know they are sick early. We can also be there to help our patients determine when they are at risk for severe illness and when they should consider a higher level of care.
The availability of home testing gives us the opportunity to provide these treatments via telehealth and even potentially in times when these illnesses are everywhere — with standing orders with our clinical teams. Although it is a busy time for us in the clinic, “cold and flu” season is definitely one of those times when our primary care relationship can truly help our patients.
References
1. CDC Recommends Updated 2024-2025 COVID-19 and Flu Vaccines for Fall/Winter Virus Season. https://www.cdc.gov/media/releases/2024/s-t0627-vaccine-recommendations.html. Accessed August 8, 2024. Source: Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
2. CDC Updates RSV Vaccination Recommendation for Adults. https://www.cdc.gov/media/releases/2024/s-0626-vaccination-adults.html. Accessed August 8, 2024. Source: Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
3. Similarities and Differences between Flu and COVID-19. https://www.cdc.gov/flu/symptoms/flu-vs-covid19.htm. Accessed August 8, 2024. Source: Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, National Center for Immunization and Respiratory Diseases.
4. Respiratory Virus Guidance. https://www.cdc.gov/respiratory-viruses/guidance/index.html. Accessed August 9, 2024. Source: National Center for Immunization and Respiratory Diseases.
5. Provider Toolkit: Preparing Patients for the Fall and Winter Virus Season. https://www.cdc.gov/respiratory-viruses/hcp/tools-resources/index.html. Accessed August 9, 2024. Source: Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
Doctor I-Don’t-Know
Many, many years ago there was a Thanksgiving when as I was just beginning to earn a reputation in my wife’s family. There were no place cards on the table and the usual hovering and jockeying seats was well underway. From behind me I heard one of my young nieces pipe up: “I want to sit next to Doctor I-don’t-know.”
After a few words of negotiation we were all settled in our places and ready to enjoy our meal. It took only a few seconds of introspection for me to grasp how I had received that moniker, which some physicians might consider disrespectful.
I was the only physician within several generations of that family and, as such, my in-laws thought it only appropriate to ask me medical questions. They courteously seemed to avoid personal questions about their own health and were particularly careful not to roll up their sleeves or unbutton their shirts to show me a lesion or a recently acquired surgical scar. No, my wife’s family members were curious. They wanted answers to deeper questions, the hard science so to speak. “How does aspirin work?” was a typical and painful example. Maybe pharmacologists today have better answers but 40 years ago I’m not so sure; I certainly didn’t know back then and would reply, “I don’t know.” Probably for the third or fourth time that day.
Usually I genuinely didn’t know the answer. However, sometimes my answer was going to be so different from the beliefs and biases of my inquisitor that, in the interest of expediency, “I don’t know” seemed the most appropriate response.
If you were reading Letters from Maine 25 years ago, that scenario might sound familiar. I have chosen to pull it out of the archives as a jumping-off point for a consideration of the unfortunate example some of us set when the COVID pandemic threw a tsunami of unknowns at us. Too many physician-“experts” were afraid to say, “I don’t know.” Instead, and maybe because, they themselves were afraid that the patients couldn’t handle the truth that none of us in the profession knew the correct answers. When so many initial pronouncements proved incorrect, it was too late to undo the damage that had been done to the community’s trust in the rest of us.
It turns out that my in-laws were not the only folks who thought of me as Doctor I-don’t-know. One of the perks of remaining in the same community after one retires is that encounters with former patients and their parents happen frequently. On more than one occasion a parent has thanked me for admitting my ignorance. Some have even claimed that my candid approach was what they remembered most fondly. And, that quality increased their trust when I finally provided an answer.
There is an art to delivering “I don’t know.” Thirty years ago I would excuse myself and tell the family I was going to my office to pull a book off the shelf or call a previous mentor. Now one only needs to ask Dr. Google. No need to leave the room. If appropriate, the provider can swing the computer screen so that the patient can share in the search for the answer.
That strategy only works when the provider merely needs to update or expand his/her knowledge. However, there are those difficult situations when no one could know the answer given the current parameters of the patient’s situation. More lab work might be needed. It may be too early in the trajectory of the patient’s illness for the illnesses signs and symptoms to declare themselves.
In these situations “I don’t know” must be followed by a “but.” It is what comes after that “but” and how it is delivered that can convert the provider’s admission of ignorance into a demonstration of his or her character. Is he/she a caring person trying to understand the patient’s concerns? Willing to enter into a cooperative relationship as together they search for the cause and hopefully for a cure for the patient’s currently mysterious illness?
I recently read about a physician who is encouraging medical educators to incorporate more discussions of “humility” and its role in patient care into the medical school and postgraduate training curricula. He feels, as do I, that
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.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.
Many, many years ago there was a Thanksgiving when as I was just beginning to earn a reputation in my wife’s family. There were no place cards on the table and the usual hovering and jockeying seats was well underway. From behind me I heard one of my young nieces pipe up: “I want to sit next to Doctor I-don’t-know.”
After a few words of negotiation we were all settled in our places and ready to enjoy our meal. It took only a few seconds of introspection for me to grasp how I had received that moniker, which some physicians might consider disrespectful.
I was the only physician within several generations of that family and, as such, my in-laws thought it only appropriate to ask me medical questions. They courteously seemed to avoid personal questions about their own health and were particularly careful not to roll up their sleeves or unbutton their shirts to show me a lesion or a recently acquired surgical scar. No, my wife’s family members were curious. They wanted answers to deeper questions, the hard science so to speak. “How does aspirin work?” was a typical and painful example. Maybe pharmacologists today have better answers but 40 years ago I’m not so sure; I certainly didn’t know back then and would reply, “I don’t know.” Probably for the third or fourth time that day.
Usually I genuinely didn’t know the answer. However, sometimes my answer was going to be so different from the beliefs and biases of my inquisitor that, in the interest of expediency, “I don’t know” seemed the most appropriate response.
If you were reading Letters from Maine 25 years ago, that scenario might sound familiar. I have chosen to pull it out of the archives as a jumping-off point for a consideration of the unfortunate example some of us set when the COVID pandemic threw a tsunami of unknowns at us. Too many physician-“experts” were afraid to say, “I don’t know.” Instead, and maybe because, they themselves were afraid that the patients couldn’t handle the truth that none of us in the profession knew the correct answers. When so many initial pronouncements proved incorrect, it was too late to undo the damage that had been done to the community’s trust in the rest of us.
It turns out that my in-laws were not the only folks who thought of me as Doctor I-don’t-know. One of the perks of remaining in the same community after one retires is that encounters with former patients and their parents happen frequently. On more than one occasion a parent has thanked me for admitting my ignorance. Some have even claimed that my candid approach was what they remembered most fondly. And, that quality increased their trust when I finally provided an answer.
There is an art to delivering “I don’t know.” Thirty years ago I would excuse myself and tell the family I was going to my office to pull a book off the shelf or call a previous mentor. Now one only needs to ask Dr. Google. No need to leave the room. If appropriate, the provider can swing the computer screen so that the patient can share in the search for the answer.
That strategy only works when the provider merely needs to update or expand his/her knowledge. However, there are those difficult situations when no one could know the answer given the current parameters of the patient’s situation. More lab work might be needed. It may be too early in the trajectory of the patient’s illness for the illnesses signs and symptoms to declare themselves.
In these situations “I don’t know” must be followed by a “but.” It is what comes after that “but” and how it is delivered that can convert the provider’s admission of ignorance into a demonstration of his or her character. Is he/she a caring person trying to understand the patient’s concerns? Willing to enter into a cooperative relationship as together they search for the cause and hopefully for a cure for the patient’s currently mysterious illness?
I recently read about a physician who is encouraging medical educators to incorporate more discussions of “humility” and its role in patient care into the medical school and postgraduate training curricula. He feels, as do I, that
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.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.
Many, many years ago there was a Thanksgiving when as I was just beginning to earn a reputation in my wife’s family. There were no place cards on the table and the usual hovering and jockeying seats was well underway. From behind me I heard one of my young nieces pipe up: “I want to sit next to Doctor I-don’t-know.”
After a few words of negotiation we were all settled in our places and ready to enjoy our meal. It took only a few seconds of introspection for me to grasp how I had received that moniker, which some physicians might consider disrespectful.
I was the only physician within several generations of that family and, as such, my in-laws thought it only appropriate to ask me medical questions. They courteously seemed to avoid personal questions about their own health and were particularly careful not to roll up their sleeves or unbutton their shirts to show me a lesion or a recently acquired surgical scar. No, my wife’s family members were curious. They wanted answers to deeper questions, the hard science so to speak. “How does aspirin work?” was a typical and painful example. Maybe pharmacologists today have better answers but 40 years ago I’m not so sure; I certainly didn’t know back then and would reply, “I don’t know.” Probably for the third or fourth time that day.
Usually I genuinely didn’t know the answer. However, sometimes my answer was going to be so different from the beliefs and biases of my inquisitor that, in the interest of expediency, “I don’t know” seemed the most appropriate response.
If you were reading Letters from Maine 25 years ago, that scenario might sound familiar. I have chosen to pull it out of the archives as a jumping-off point for a consideration of the unfortunate example some of us set when the COVID pandemic threw a tsunami of unknowns at us. Too many physician-“experts” were afraid to say, “I don’t know.” Instead, and maybe because, they themselves were afraid that the patients couldn’t handle the truth that none of us in the profession knew the correct answers. When so many initial pronouncements proved incorrect, it was too late to undo the damage that had been done to the community’s trust in the rest of us.
It turns out that my in-laws were not the only folks who thought of me as Doctor I-don’t-know. One of the perks of remaining in the same community after one retires is that encounters with former patients and their parents happen frequently. On more than one occasion a parent has thanked me for admitting my ignorance. Some have even claimed that my candid approach was what they remembered most fondly. And, that quality increased their trust when I finally provided an answer.
There is an art to delivering “I don’t know.” Thirty years ago I would excuse myself and tell the family I was going to my office to pull a book off the shelf or call a previous mentor. Now one only needs to ask Dr. Google. No need to leave the room. If appropriate, the provider can swing the computer screen so that the patient can share in the search for the answer.
That strategy only works when the provider merely needs to update or expand his/her knowledge. However, there are those difficult situations when no one could know the answer given the current parameters of the patient’s situation. More lab work might be needed. It may be too early in the trajectory of the patient’s illness for the illnesses signs and symptoms to declare themselves.
In these situations “I don’t know” must be followed by a “but.” It is what comes after that “but” and how it is delivered that can convert the provider’s admission of ignorance into a demonstration of his or her character. Is he/she a caring person trying to understand the patient’s concerns? Willing to enter into a cooperative relationship as together they search for the cause and hopefully for a cure for the patient’s currently mysterious illness?
I recently read about a physician who is encouraging medical educators to incorporate more discussions of “humility” and its role in patient care into the medical school and postgraduate training curricula. He feels, as do I, that
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.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.
The Digital Side Effects
On July 19, what was supposed to be a harmless software upgrade brought down a huge chunk of the health care, banking, flight, and travel systems.
While my dinky little practice wasn’t affected, several of my patients were in other ways. Tests that had to be rescheduled, flights canceled ... inconveniences, but not life altering.
Things are allegedly fixed (at least until next time) but there may be fallout down the road. People who had delayed medical procedures could have a different prognosis depending on what the results showed when they were done. Hopefully this won’t happen.
But it’s a reminder of how vulnerable our whole world is to disruption of the internet, not to mention the power grid and software systems. Paper is time consuming, and takes up a lot of space, but as long as you have a decent pen and enough light to read it you’re fine.
I’m not saying we should go back to paper. It’s more expensive in the long run, takes up shelf and closet space, kills trees, has to be shredded after a time, and turns yellow around the edges. It also makes it a pain to copy and transfer records. With paper I wouldn’t be able to take all my charts with me to refer to when I leave town on a busman’s holiday. The benefits of digital far outstrip paper or we wouldn’t have switched in the first place.
But it’s still kind of scary to realize how much we depend on software to keep things running smoothly. The events of July 19 were unintentional. Someone looking to cause real trouble could do worse — and there are plenty out there who would love to — and we’re putting our faith in companies like CrowdStrike to protect us from them.
But, on the flip side, we’re asking others to do the same. We often use the phrase “trust me, I’m a doctor,” in jest, but the point is there. People come to us because we have knowledge and training they don’t, and they’re hoping we can help them. We spent a lot of time getting to the point where we can hang up a sign that says so. And we, like everyone else, are not infallible.
We’re individuals, not machines. Both are fallible, though in different ways. In CrowdStrike’s case the machines didn’t fail, they just did what the humans told them to do. Which didn’t work.
The bottom line is that even the most well-meaning will make mistakes.
But it’s still pretty scary because, even unintentionally, there will be a next time. And between now and then our world will become even more dependent on these systems. None of us want to go back to the preconnected era, it’s too much a part of our daily lives.
Like the long list of potential side effects on any drug we prescribe, it’s a trade-off that we’ve accepted. And at this point we aren’t going back.
Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.
On July 19, what was supposed to be a harmless software upgrade brought down a huge chunk of the health care, banking, flight, and travel systems.
While my dinky little practice wasn’t affected, several of my patients were in other ways. Tests that had to be rescheduled, flights canceled ... inconveniences, but not life altering.
Things are allegedly fixed (at least until next time) but there may be fallout down the road. People who had delayed medical procedures could have a different prognosis depending on what the results showed when they were done. Hopefully this won’t happen.
But it’s a reminder of how vulnerable our whole world is to disruption of the internet, not to mention the power grid and software systems. Paper is time consuming, and takes up a lot of space, but as long as you have a decent pen and enough light to read it you’re fine.
I’m not saying we should go back to paper. It’s more expensive in the long run, takes up shelf and closet space, kills trees, has to be shredded after a time, and turns yellow around the edges. It also makes it a pain to copy and transfer records. With paper I wouldn’t be able to take all my charts with me to refer to when I leave town on a busman’s holiday. The benefits of digital far outstrip paper or we wouldn’t have switched in the first place.
But it’s still kind of scary to realize how much we depend on software to keep things running smoothly. The events of July 19 were unintentional. Someone looking to cause real trouble could do worse — and there are plenty out there who would love to — and we’re putting our faith in companies like CrowdStrike to protect us from them.
But, on the flip side, we’re asking others to do the same. We often use the phrase “trust me, I’m a doctor,” in jest, but the point is there. People come to us because we have knowledge and training they don’t, and they’re hoping we can help them. We spent a lot of time getting to the point where we can hang up a sign that says so. And we, like everyone else, are not infallible.
We’re individuals, not machines. Both are fallible, though in different ways. In CrowdStrike’s case the machines didn’t fail, they just did what the humans told them to do. Which didn’t work.
The bottom line is that even the most well-meaning will make mistakes.
But it’s still pretty scary because, even unintentionally, there will be a next time. And between now and then our world will become even more dependent on these systems. None of us want to go back to the preconnected era, it’s too much a part of our daily lives.
Like the long list of potential side effects on any drug we prescribe, it’s a trade-off that we’ve accepted. And at this point we aren’t going back.
Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.
On July 19, what was supposed to be a harmless software upgrade brought down a huge chunk of the health care, banking, flight, and travel systems.
While my dinky little practice wasn’t affected, several of my patients were in other ways. Tests that had to be rescheduled, flights canceled ... inconveniences, but not life altering.
Things are allegedly fixed (at least until next time) but there may be fallout down the road. People who had delayed medical procedures could have a different prognosis depending on what the results showed when they were done. Hopefully this won’t happen.
But it’s a reminder of how vulnerable our whole world is to disruption of the internet, not to mention the power grid and software systems. Paper is time consuming, and takes up a lot of space, but as long as you have a decent pen and enough light to read it you’re fine.
I’m not saying we should go back to paper. It’s more expensive in the long run, takes up shelf and closet space, kills trees, has to be shredded after a time, and turns yellow around the edges. It also makes it a pain to copy and transfer records. With paper I wouldn’t be able to take all my charts with me to refer to when I leave town on a busman’s holiday. The benefits of digital far outstrip paper or we wouldn’t have switched in the first place.
But it’s still kind of scary to realize how much we depend on software to keep things running smoothly. The events of July 19 were unintentional. Someone looking to cause real trouble could do worse — and there are plenty out there who would love to — and we’re putting our faith in companies like CrowdStrike to protect us from them.
But, on the flip side, we’re asking others to do the same. We often use the phrase “trust me, I’m a doctor,” in jest, but the point is there. People come to us because we have knowledge and training they don’t, and they’re hoping we can help them. We spent a lot of time getting to the point where we can hang up a sign that says so. And we, like everyone else, are not infallible.
We’re individuals, not machines. Both are fallible, though in different ways. In CrowdStrike’s case the machines didn’t fail, they just did what the humans told them to do. Which didn’t work.
The bottom line is that even the most well-meaning will make mistakes.
But it’s still pretty scary because, even unintentionally, there will be a next time. And between now and then our world will become even more dependent on these systems. None of us want to go back to the preconnected era, it’s too much a part of our daily lives.
Like the long list of potential side effects on any drug we prescribe, it’s a trade-off that we’ve accepted. And at this point we aren’t going back.
Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.
Did Statin Decision-Making Just Get Harder?
The new American Heart Association Predicting Risk of cardiovascular disease EVENTs (PREVENT) equation outperforms the standard pooled cohort equation (PCE). But there is a problem. A big one, actually.
The new score incorporates kidney function and social situation, and it eliminates race from the estimate. It was derived from larger, more modern datasets and can be applied to younger adults.
Two luminaries in preventive cardiology recently called the PREVENT calculator a “substantial improvement over the PCE in terms of accuracy and precision of risk estimates over the entire population and within demographic subgroups.”
Now to the Problem of PREVENT vs PCE
A recent study comparing PREVENT and PCE found that the PREVENT equation would assign lower 10-year risks to millions of US adults.
The authors estimated that the more accurate calculator would result in an estimated 14 million adults no longer reaching the statin eligibility risk threshold of 7.5% over 10 years. Nearly 3 million adults would also not reach the threshold for blood pressure therapy.
Because statins and blood pressure drugs reduce cardiac events, the authors further estimated that more than 100,000 excess myocardial infarctions (MIs) would occur if the PREVENT equation was used along with the current risk thresholds for statin eligibility.
The change in eligibility induced by PREVENT would affect more men than women and a greater proportion of Black adults than White adults.
The Tension of Arbitrary Thresholds
Modern cardiac therapeutics are amazing, but it’s still better to prevent an event than to treat it.
Statin drugs reduce cardiac risk by about 20%-25% at all absolute risks. American experts chose a 10-year risk of 7.5% as the threshold where statin benefit exceed risk. The USPSTF chose 10%. But the thresholds are arbitrary and derived only by opinion.
If your frame is population health, the more patients who take statins, the fewer cardiac events there will be. Anything that reduces statin use increases cardiac events.
The tension occurs because a more accurate equation decreases the number of people who meet eligibility for primary prevention therapy and therefore increases the number of cardiac events.
I write from the perspective of both a clinician and a possible patient. As a clinician, patients often ask me whether they should take a statin. (Sadly, most have not had a risk-based discussion with their clinician. But that is another column.)
The incidence of MI or stroke in a population has no effect on either of these scenarios. I see three broad categories of patients: minimizers, maximizers, and those in between.
I am a minimizer. I don’t worry much about heart disease. First, I won’t ignore symptoms, and I know that we have great treatments. Second, my wife, Staci, practiced hospice and palliative care medicine, and this taught me that worrying about one specific disease is folly. In the next decade, I, like anyone my age, could have many other bad things happen: cancer, trauma, infection, etc. Given these competing risks for serious disease, a PREVENT-calculated risk of 4% or a PCE-calculated risk of 8% makes no difference. I don’t like pills, and, with risks in this range, I decline statin drugs.
Then there are the maximizers. This person wants to avoid heart disease. Maybe they have family or friends who had terrible cardiac events. This person will maximize everything to avoid heart disease. The calculated 10-year risk makes little difference to a maximizer. Whether it is 4% or 8% matters not. They will take a statin or blood pressure drugs to reduce risk to as low as possible.
There are people between minimizers and maximizers. I am not sure that there are that many truly undecided people, but I challenge you to translate a difference of a few percent over a decade to them. I feel comfortable with numbers but struggle to sort out these small absolute differences over such a long time frame.
Other Issues With Risk-Based Decisions
Venk Murthy, MD, PhD, from the University of Michigan, wrote on X about two other issues with a risk-based decision. One is that it does not consider life-years lost. If a 50-year-old person has a fatal MI, that counts as one event. But in life-years lost, that one event is much worse than a fatal MI in a 79-year-old. Cardiac prevention, therefore, may have a greater effect in lower-risk younger people.
Another point Dr. Murthy made is that risk and benefit are driven by many different preferences and rare events. Minimizers and maximizers come to the decision with widely disparate preferences. Risk-based decisions treat patients as if they were automatons who make decisions based simply on calculated probabilities. Clinicians know how untrue that is.
Conclusion
If you carry forward the logic of being disturbed by the estimate of more MIs using the PREVENT score, then you could justify putting statins in the water — because that would reduce population estimates of MIs.
I am not disturbed by the PREVENT score. Clinicians treat individuals, not populations. Individuals want a more accurate score. They don’t need expert-based thresholds. Clinician and patient can discuss the evidence and come up with an agreeable decision, one that is concordant with a person’s goals. The next patient may have a different decision despite seeing the same evidence.
The tension created by this comparative study exposes the gap between population health and basic clinical care. I don’t think clinicians need to worry about populations.
Dr. Mandrola, a clinical electrophysiologist at Baptist Medical Associates, Louisville, Kentucky, has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
The new American Heart Association Predicting Risk of cardiovascular disease EVENTs (PREVENT) equation outperforms the standard pooled cohort equation (PCE). But there is a problem. A big one, actually.
The new score incorporates kidney function and social situation, and it eliminates race from the estimate. It was derived from larger, more modern datasets and can be applied to younger adults.
Two luminaries in preventive cardiology recently called the PREVENT calculator a “substantial improvement over the PCE in terms of accuracy and precision of risk estimates over the entire population and within demographic subgroups.”
Now to the Problem of PREVENT vs PCE
A recent study comparing PREVENT and PCE found that the PREVENT equation would assign lower 10-year risks to millions of US adults.
The authors estimated that the more accurate calculator would result in an estimated 14 million adults no longer reaching the statin eligibility risk threshold of 7.5% over 10 years. Nearly 3 million adults would also not reach the threshold for blood pressure therapy.
Because statins and blood pressure drugs reduce cardiac events, the authors further estimated that more than 100,000 excess myocardial infarctions (MIs) would occur if the PREVENT equation was used along with the current risk thresholds for statin eligibility.
The change in eligibility induced by PREVENT would affect more men than women and a greater proportion of Black adults than White adults.
The Tension of Arbitrary Thresholds
Modern cardiac therapeutics are amazing, but it’s still better to prevent an event than to treat it.
Statin drugs reduce cardiac risk by about 20%-25% at all absolute risks. American experts chose a 10-year risk of 7.5% as the threshold where statin benefit exceed risk. The USPSTF chose 10%. But the thresholds are arbitrary and derived only by opinion.
If your frame is population health, the more patients who take statins, the fewer cardiac events there will be. Anything that reduces statin use increases cardiac events.
The tension occurs because a more accurate equation decreases the number of people who meet eligibility for primary prevention therapy and therefore increases the number of cardiac events.
I write from the perspective of both a clinician and a possible patient. As a clinician, patients often ask me whether they should take a statin. (Sadly, most have not had a risk-based discussion with their clinician. But that is another column.)
The incidence of MI or stroke in a population has no effect on either of these scenarios. I see three broad categories of patients: minimizers, maximizers, and those in between.
I am a minimizer. I don’t worry much about heart disease. First, I won’t ignore symptoms, and I know that we have great treatments. Second, my wife, Staci, practiced hospice and palliative care medicine, and this taught me that worrying about one specific disease is folly. In the next decade, I, like anyone my age, could have many other bad things happen: cancer, trauma, infection, etc. Given these competing risks for serious disease, a PREVENT-calculated risk of 4% or a PCE-calculated risk of 8% makes no difference. I don’t like pills, and, with risks in this range, I decline statin drugs.
Then there are the maximizers. This person wants to avoid heart disease. Maybe they have family or friends who had terrible cardiac events. This person will maximize everything to avoid heart disease. The calculated 10-year risk makes little difference to a maximizer. Whether it is 4% or 8% matters not. They will take a statin or blood pressure drugs to reduce risk to as low as possible.
There are people between minimizers and maximizers. I am not sure that there are that many truly undecided people, but I challenge you to translate a difference of a few percent over a decade to them. I feel comfortable with numbers but struggle to sort out these small absolute differences over such a long time frame.
Other Issues With Risk-Based Decisions
Venk Murthy, MD, PhD, from the University of Michigan, wrote on X about two other issues with a risk-based decision. One is that it does not consider life-years lost. If a 50-year-old person has a fatal MI, that counts as one event. But in life-years lost, that one event is much worse than a fatal MI in a 79-year-old. Cardiac prevention, therefore, may have a greater effect in lower-risk younger people.
Another point Dr. Murthy made is that risk and benefit are driven by many different preferences and rare events. Minimizers and maximizers come to the decision with widely disparate preferences. Risk-based decisions treat patients as if they were automatons who make decisions based simply on calculated probabilities. Clinicians know how untrue that is.
Conclusion
If you carry forward the logic of being disturbed by the estimate of more MIs using the PREVENT score, then you could justify putting statins in the water — because that would reduce population estimates of MIs.
I am not disturbed by the PREVENT score. Clinicians treat individuals, not populations. Individuals want a more accurate score. They don’t need expert-based thresholds. Clinician and patient can discuss the evidence and come up with an agreeable decision, one that is concordant with a person’s goals. The next patient may have a different decision despite seeing the same evidence.
The tension created by this comparative study exposes the gap between population health and basic clinical care. I don’t think clinicians need to worry about populations.
Dr. Mandrola, a clinical electrophysiologist at Baptist Medical Associates, Louisville, Kentucky, has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
The new American Heart Association Predicting Risk of cardiovascular disease EVENTs (PREVENT) equation outperforms the standard pooled cohort equation (PCE). But there is a problem. A big one, actually.
The new score incorporates kidney function and social situation, and it eliminates race from the estimate. It was derived from larger, more modern datasets and can be applied to younger adults.
Two luminaries in preventive cardiology recently called the PREVENT calculator a “substantial improvement over the PCE in terms of accuracy and precision of risk estimates over the entire population and within demographic subgroups.”
Now to the Problem of PREVENT vs PCE
A recent study comparing PREVENT and PCE found that the PREVENT equation would assign lower 10-year risks to millions of US adults.
The authors estimated that the more accurate calculator would result in an estimated 14 million adults no longer reaching the statin eligibility risk threshold of 7.5% over 10 years. Nearly 3 million adults would also not reach the threshold for blood pressure therapy.
Because statins and blood pressure drugs reduce cardiac events, the authors further estimated that more than 100,000 excess myocardial infarctions (MIs) would occur if the PREVENT equation was used along with the current risk thresholds for statin eligibility.
The change in eligibility induced by PREVENT would affect more men than women and a greater proportion of Black adults than White adults.
The Tension of Arbitrary Thresholds
Modern cardiac therapeutics are amazing, but it’s still better to prevent an event than to treat it.
Statin drugs reduce cardiac risk by about 20%-25% at all absolute risks. American experts chose a 10-year risk of 7.5% as the threshold where statin benefit exceed risk. The USPSTF chose 10%. But the thresholds are arbitrary and derived only by opinion.
If your frame is population health, the more patients who take statins, the fewer cardiac events there will be. Anything that reduces statin use increases cardiac events.
The tension occurs because a more accurate equation decreases the number of people who meet eligibility for primary prevention therapy and therefore increases the number of cardiac events.
I write from the perspective of both a clinician and a possible patient. As a clinician, patients often ask me whether they should take a statin. (Sadly, most have not had a risk-based discussion with their clinician. But that is another column.)
The incidence of MI or stroke in a population has no effect on either of these scenarios. I see three broad categories of patients: minimizers, maximizers, and those in between.
I am a minimizer. I don’t worry much about heart disease. First, I won’t ignore symptoms, and I know that we have great treatments. Second, my wife, Staci, practiced hospice and palliative care medicine, and this taught me that worrying about one specific disease is folly. In the next decade, I, like anyone my age, could have many other bad things happen: cancer, trauma, infection, etc. Given these competing risks for serious disease, a PREVENT-calculated risk of 4% or a PCE-calculated risk of 8% makes no difference. I don’t like pills, and, with risks in this range, I decline statin drugs.
Then there are the maximizers. This person wants to avoid heart disease. Maybe they have family or friends who had terrible cardiac events. This person will maximize everything to avoid heart disease. The calculated 10-year risk makes little difference to a maximizer. Whether it is 4% or 8% matters not. They will take a statin or blood pressure drugs to reduce risk to as low as possible.
There are people between minimizers and maximizers. I am not sure that there are that many truly undecided people, but I challenge you to translate a difference of a few percent over a decade to them. I feel comfortable with numbers but struggle to sort out these small absolute differences over such a long time frame.
Other Issues With Risk-Based Decisions
Venk Murthy, MD, PhD, from the University of Michigan, wrote on X about two other issues with a risk-based decision. One is that it does not consider life-years lost. If a 50-year-old person has a fatal MI, that counts as one event. But in life-years lost, that one event is much worse than a fatal MI in a 79-year-old. Cardiac prevention, therefore, may have a greater effect in lower-risk younger people.
Another point Dr. Murthy made is that risk and benefit are driven by many different preferences and rare events. Minimizers and maximizers come to the decision with widely disparate preferences. Risk-based decisions treat patients as if they were automatons who make decisions based simply on calculated probabilities. Clinicians know how untrue that is.
Conclusion
If you carry forward the logic of being disturbed by the estimate of more MIs using the PREVENT score, then you could justify putting statins in the water — because that would reduce population estimates of MIs.
I am not disturbed by the PREVENT score. Clinicians treat individuals, not populations. Individuals want a more accurate score. They don’t need expert-based thresholds. Clinician and patient can discuss the evidence and come up with an agreeable decision, one that is concordant with a person’s goals. The next patient may have a different decision despite seeing the same evidence.
The tension created by this comparative study exposes the gap between population health and basic clinical care. I don’t think clinicians need to worry about populations.
Dr. Mandrola, a clinical electrophysiologist at Baptist Medical Associates, Louisville, Kentucky, has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
On Second Thought: The Truth About Beta-Blockers
This transcript has been edited for clarity.
Giving patients a beta-blocker after a myocardial infarction is standard of care. It’s in the guidelines. It’s one of the performance measures used by the American College of Cardiology (ACC) and the American Heart Association (AHA). If you aren’t putting your post–acute coronary syndrome (ACS) patients on a beta-blocker, the ACC and the AHA both think you suck.
They are very disappointed in you, just like your mother was when you told her you didn’t want to become a surgeon because you don’t like waking up early, your hands shake when you get nervous, it’s not your fault, there’s nothing you can do about it, so just leave me alone!
The data on beta-blockers are decades old. In the time before stents, statins, angiotensin-converting enzyme inhibitors, and dual antiplatelet therapy, when patients either died or got better on their own, beta-blockers showed major benefits. Studies like the Norwegian Multicenter Study Group, the BHAT trial, and the ISIS-1 trial proved the benefits of beta blockade. These studies date back to the 1980s, when you could call a study ISIS without controversy.
It was a simpler time, when all you had to worry about was the Cold War, apartheid, and the global AIDS pandemic. It was a time when doctors smoked in their offices, and patients had bigger infarcts that caused large scars and systolic dysfunction. That world is no longer our world, except for the war, the global pandemic, and the out-of-control gas prices.
The reality is that, before troponins, we probably missed most small heart attacks. Now, most infarcts are small, and most patients walk away from their heart attacks with essentially normal hearts. Do beta-blockers still matter? If you’re a fan of Cochrane reviews, the answer is yes.
In 2021, Cochrane published a review of beta-blockers in patients without heart failure after myocardial infarction (MI). The authors of that analysis concluded, after the usual caveats about heterogeneity, potential bias, and the whims of a random universe, that, yes, beta-blockers do reduce mortality. The risk ratio for max all-cause mortality was 0.81.
What does that mean practically? The absolute risk was reduced from 10.9% to 8.7%, a 2.2–percentage point absolute decrease and about a 20% relative drop. A little math gives us a third number: 46. That’s the number needed to treat. If you think about how many patients you admit during a typical week of critical care unit with an MI, a number needed to treat of 46 is a pretty good trade-off for a fairly inexpensive medication with fairly minimal side effects.
Of course, these are the same people who claim that masks don’t stop the spread of COVID-19. Sure, were they the only people who thought that handwashing was the best way to stop a respiratory virus? No. We all believed that fantasy for far longer than we should have. Not everybody can bat a thousand, if by batting a thousand, you mean reflecting on how your words will impact on a broader population primed to believe misinformation because of the increasingly toxic social media environment and worsening politicization and radicalization of our politics.
By the way, if any of you want to come to Canada, you can stay with me. Things are incrementally better here. In this day and age, incrementally better is the best we can hope for.
Here’s the wrinkle with the Cochrane beta-blocker review: Many of the studies took place before early revascularization became the norm and before our current armamentarium of drugs became standard of care.
Back in the day, bed rest and the power of positive thinking were the mainstays of cardiac treatment. Also, many of these studies mixed together ST-segment MI (STEMI) and non-STEMI patients, so you’re obviously going to see more benefits in STEMI patients who are at higher risk. Some of them used intravenous (IV) beta-blockers right away, whereas some were looking only at oral beta-blockers started days after the infarct.
We don’t use IV beta-blockers that much anymore because of the risk for shock.
Also, some studies had short-term follow-up where the benefits were less pronounced, and some studies used doses and types of beta-blockers rarely used today. Some of the studies had a mix of coronary and heart failure patients, which muddies the water because the heart failure patients would clearly benefit from being on a beta-blocker.
Basically, the data are not definitive because they are old and don’t reflect our current standard of care. The data contain a heterogeneous mix of patients that aren’t really relevant to the question that we’re asking. The question we’re asking is, should you put all your post-MI patients on a beta-blocker routinely, even if they don’t have heart failure?
The REDUCE-AMI trial is the first of a few trials testing, or to be more accurate, retesting, whether beta-blockers are useful after an MI. BETAMI, REBOOT, DANBLOCK— you’ll be hearing these names in the next few years, either because the studies get published or because they’re the Twitter handles of people harassing you online. Either/or. (By the way, I’ll be cold in my grave before I call it X.)
For now, REDUCE-AMI is the first across the finish line, and at least in cardiology, finishing first is a good thing. This study enrolled patients with ACS, both STEMI and non-STEMI, with a post-MI ejection fraction ≥ 50%, and the result was nothing. The risk ratio for all-cause mortality was 0.94 and was not statistically significant.
In absolute terms, that’s a reduction from 4.1% to 3.9%, or a 0.2–percentage point decrease; this translates into a number needed to treat of 500, which is 10 times higher than what the Cochrane review found. That’s if you assume that there is, in fact, a small benefit amidst all the statistical noise, which there probably isn’t.
Now, studies like this can never rule out small effects, either positive or negative, so maybe there is a small benefit from using beta-blockers. If it’s there, it’s really small. Do beta-blockers work? Well, yes, obviously, for heart failure and atrial fibrillation — which, let’s face it, are not exactly rare and often coexist in patients with heart disease. They probably aren’t that great as blood pressure pills, but that’s a story for another day and another video.
Yes, beta-blockers are useful pills, and they are standard of care, just maybe not for post-MI patients with normal ejection fractions because they probably don’t really need them. They worked in the pre-stent, pre-aspirin, pre-anything era.
That’s not our world anymore. Things change. It’s not the 1980s. That’s why I don’t have a mullet, and that’s why you need to update your kitchen.
Dr. Labos, a cardiologist at Kirkland Medical Center, Montreal, Quebec, Canada, has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
This transcript has been edited for clarity.
Giving patients a beta-blocker after a myocardial infarction is standard of care. It’s in the guidelines. It’s one of the performance measures used by the American College of Cardiology (ACC) and the American Heart Association (AHA). If you aren’t putting your post–acute coronary syndrome (ACS) patients on a beta-blocker, the ACC and the AHA both think you suck.
They are very disappointed in you, just like your mother was when you told her you didn’t want to become a surgeon because you don’t like waking up early, your hands shake when you get nervous, it’s not your fault, there’s nothing you can do about it, so just leave me alone!
The data on beta-blockers are decades old. In the time before stents, statins, angiotensin-converting enzyme inhibitors, and dual antiplatelet therapy, when patients either died or got better on their own, beta-blockers showed major benefits. Studies like the Norwegian Multicenter Study Group, the BHAT trial, and the ISIS-1 trial proved the benefits of beta blockade. These studies date back to the 1980s, when you could call a study ISIS without controversy.
It was a simpler time, when all you had to worry about was the Cold War, apartheid, and the global AIDS pandemic. It was a time when doctors smoked in their offices, and patients had bigger infarcts that caused large scars and systolic dysfunction. That world is no longer our world, except for the war, the global pandemic, and the out-of-control gas prices.
The reality is that, before troponins, we probably missed most small heart attacks. Now, most infarcts are small, and most patients walk away from their heart attacks with essentially normal hearts. Do beta-blockers still matter? If you’re a fan of Cochrane reviews, the answer is yes.
In 2021, Cochrane published a review of beta-blockers in patients without heart failure after myocardial infarction (MI). The authors of that analysis concluded, after the usual caveats about heterogeneity, potential bias, and the whims of a random universe, that, yes, beta-blockers do reduce mortality. The risk ratio for max all-cause mortality was 0.81.
What does that mean practically? The absolute risk was reduced from 10.9% to 8.7%, a 2.2–percentage point absolute decrease and about a 20% relative drop. A little math gives us a third number: 46. That’s the number needed to treat. If you think about how many patients you admit during a typical week of critical care unit with an MI, a number needed to treat of 46 is a pretty good trade-off for a fairly inexpensive medication with fairly minimal side effects.
Of course, these are the same people who claim that masks don’t stop the spread of COVID-19. Sure, were they the only people who thought that handwashing was the best way to stop a respiratory virus? No. We all believed that fantasy for far longer than we should have. Not everybody can bat a thousand, if by batting a thousand, you mean reflecting on how your words will impact on a broader population primed to believe misinformation because of the increasingly toxic social media environment and worsening politicization and radicalization of our politics.
By the way, if any of you want to come to Canada, you can stay with me. Things are incrementally better here. In this day and age, incrementally better is the best we can hope for.
Here’s the wrinkle with the Cochrane beta-blocker review: Many of the studies took place before early revascularization became the norm and before our current armamentarium of drugs became standard of care.
Back in the day, bed rest and the power of positive thinking were the mainstays of cardiac treatment. Also, many of these studies mixed together ST-segment MI (STEMI) and non-STEMI patients, so you’re obviously going to see more benefits in STEMI patients who are at higher risk. Some of them used intravenous (IV) beta-blockers right away, whereas some were looking only at oral beta-blockers started days after the infarct.
We don’t use IV beta-blockers that much anymore because of the risk for shock.
Also, some studies had short-term follow-up where the benefits were less pronounced, and some studies used doses and types of beta-blockers rarely used today. Some of the studies had a mix of coronary and heart failure patients, which muddies the water because the heart failure patients would clearly benefit from being on a beta-blocker.
Basically, the data are not definitive because they are old and don’t reflect our current standard of care. The data contain a heterogeneous mix of patients that aren’t really relevant to the question that we’re asking. The question we’re asking is, should you put all your post-MI patients on a beta-blocker routinely, even if they don’t have heart failure?
The REDUCE-AMI trial is the first of a few trials testing, or to be more accurate, retesting, whether beta-blockers are useful after an MI. BETAMI, REBOOT, DANBLOCK— you’ll be hearing these names in the next few years, either because the studies get published or because they’re the Twitter handles of people harassing you online. Either/or. (By the way, I’ll be cold in my grave before I call it X.)
For now, REDUCE-AMI is the first across the finish line, and at least in cardiology, finishing first is a good thing. This study enrolled patients with ACS, both STEMI and non-STEMI, with a post-MI ejection fraction ≥ 50%, and the result was nothing. The risk ratio for all-cause mortality was 0.94 and was not statistically significant.
In absolute terms, that’s a reduction from 4.1% to 3.9%, or a 0.2–percentage point decrease; this translates into a number needed to treat of 500, which is 10 times higher than what the Cochrane review found. That’s if you assume that there is, in fact, a small benefit amidst all the statistical noise, which there probably isn’t.
Now, studies like this can never rule out small effects, either positive or negative, so maybe there is a small benefit from using beta-blockers. If it’s there, it’s really small. Do beta-blockers work? Well, yes, obviously, for heart failure and atrial fibrillation — which, let’s face it, are not exactly rare and often coexist in patients with heart disease. They probably aren’t that great as blood pressure pills, but that’s a story for another day and another video.
Yes, beta-blockers are useful pills, and they are standard of care, just maybe not for post-MI patients with normal ejection fractions because they probably don’t really need them. They worked in the pre-stent, pre-aspirin, pre-anything era.
That’s not our world anymore. Things change. It’s not the 1980s. That’s why I don’t have a mullet, and that’s why you need to update your kitchen.
Dr. Labos, a cardiologist at Kirkland Medical Center, Montreal, Quebec, Canada, has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
This transcript has been edited for clarity.
Giving patients a beta-blocker after a myocardial infarction is standard of care. It’s in the guidelines. It’s one of the performance measures used by the American College of Cardiology (ACC) and the American Heart Association (AHA). If you aren’t putting your post–acute coronary syndrome (ACS) patients on a beta-blocker, the ACC and the AHA both think you suck.
They are very disappointed in you, just like your mother was when you told her you didn’t want to become a surgeon because you don’t like waking up early, your hands shake when you get nervous, it’s not your fault, there’s nothing you can do about it, so just leave me alone!
The data on beta-blockers are decades old. In the time before stents, statins, angiotensin-converting enzyme inhibitors, and dual antiplatelet therapy, when patients either died or got better on their own, beta-blockers showed major benefits. Studies like the Norwegian Multicenter Study Group, the BHAT trial, and the ISIS-1 trial proved the benefits of beta blockade. These studies date back to the 1980s, when you could call a study ISIS without controversy.
It was a simpler time, when all you had to worry about was the Cold War, apartheid, and the global AIDS pandemic. It was a time when doctors smoked in their offices, and patients had bigger infarcts that caused large scars and systolic dysfunction. That world is no longer our world, except for the war, the global pandemic, and the out-of-control gas prices.
The reality is that, before troponins, we probably missed most small heart attacks. Now, most infarcts are small, and most patients walk away from their heart attacks with essentially normal hearts. Do beta-blockers still matter? If you’re a fan of Cochrane reviews, the answer is yes.
In 2021, Cochrane published a review of beta-blockers in patients without heart failure after myocardial infarction (MI). The authors of that analysis concluded, after the usual caveats about heterogeneity, potential bias, and the whims of a random universe, that, yes, beta-blockers do reduce mortality. The risk ratio for max all-cause mortality was 0.81.
What does that mean practically? The absolute risk was reduced from 10.9% to 8.7%, a 2.2–percentage point absolute decrease and about a 20% relative drop. A little math gives us a third number: 46. That’s the number needed to treat. If you think about how many patients you admit during a typical week of critical care unit with an MI, a number needed to treat of 46 is a pretty good trade-off for a fairly inexpensive medication with fairly minimal side effects.
Of course, these are the same people who claim that masks don’t stop the spread of COVID-19. Sure, were they the only people who thought that handwashing was the best way to stop a respiratory virus? No. We all believed that fantasy for far longer than we should have. Not everybody can bat a thousand, if by batting a thousand, you mean reflecting on how your words will impact on a broader population primed to believe misinformation because of the increasingly toxic social media environment and worsening politicization and radicalization of our politics.
By the way, if any of you want to come to Canada, you can stay with me. Things are incrementally better here. In this day and age, incrementally better is the best we can hope for.
Here’s the wrinkle with the Cochrane beta-blocker review: Many of the studies took place before early revascularization became the norm and before our current armamentarium of drugs became standard of care.
Back in the day, bed rest and the power of positive thinking were the mainstays of cardiac treatment. Also, many of these studies mixed together ST-segment MI (STEMI) and non-STEMI patients, so you’re obviously going to see more benefits in STEMI patients who are at higher risk. Some of them used intravenous (IV) beta-blockers right away, whereas some were looking only at oral beta-blockers started days after the infarct.
We don’t use IV beta-blockers that much anymore because of the risk for shock.
Also, some studies had short-term follow-up where the benefits were less pronounced, and some studies used doses and types of beta-blockers rarely used today. Some of the studies had a mix of coronary and heart failure patients, which muddies the water because the heart failure patients would clearly benefit from being on a beta-blocker.
Basically, the data are not definitive because they are old and don’t reflect our current standard of care. The data contain a heterogeneous mix of patients that aren’t really relevant to the question that we’re asking. The question we’re asking is, should you put all your post-MI patients on a beta-blocker routinely, even if they don’t have heart failure?
The REDUCE-AMI trial is the first of a few trials testing, or to be more accurate, retesting, whether beta-blockers are useful after an MI. BETAMI, REBOOT, DANBLOCK— you’ll be hearing these names in the next few years, either because the studies get published or because they’re the Twitter handles of people harassing you online. Either/or. (By the way, I’ll be cold in my grave before I call it X.)
For now, REDUCE-AMI is the first across the finish line, and at least in cardiology, finishing first is a good thing. This study enrolled patients with ACS, both STEMI and non-STEMI, with a post-MI ejection fraction ≥ 50%, and the result was nothing. The risk ratio for all-cause mortality was 0.94 and was not statistically significant.
In absolute terms, that’s a reduction from 4.1% to 3.9%, or a 0.2–percentage point decrease; this translates into a number needed to treat of 500, which is 10 times higher than what the Cochrane review found. That’s if you assume that there is, in fact, a small benefit amidst all the statistical noise, which there probably isn’t.
Now, studies like this can never rule out small effects, either positive or negative, so maybe there is a small benefit from using beta-blockers. If it’s there, it’s really small. Do beta-blockers work? Well, yes, obviously, for heart failure and atrial fibrillation — which, let’s face it, are not exactly rare and often coexist in patients with heart disease. They probably aren’t that great as blood pressure pills, but that’s a story for another day and another video.
Yes, beta-blockers are useful pills, and they are standard of care, just maybe not for post-MI patients with normal ejection fractions because they probably don’t really need them. They worked in the pre-stent, pre-aspirin, pre-anything era.
That’s not our world anymore. Things change. It’s not the 1980s. That’s why I don’t have a mullet, and that’s why you need to update your kitchen.
Dr. Labos, a cardiologist at Kirkland Medical Center, Montreal, Quebec, Canada, has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
Investing in Future Discovery
The field of GI is rapidly evolving, fueled by new scientific discoveries leading to improved understanding of disease mechanisms and more effective treatment approaches for patients with digestive and liver diseases. But there are many challenges confronting the pipeline of early-career investigators essential to future discovery, most notably a constrained funding environment leading to decreased protected time for research during these critical early years.
Foundation awards, such as those funded by the AGA Research Foundation, play a pivotal role in supporting the career development of promising young investigators in basic, translational, clinical, and health services research and ensure that we have a strong pipeline of independent investigators to stimulate ongoing discovery and innovation in our field. This year, the AGA Research Foundation distributed $2.6 million in funding to 76 investigators, including six coveted Research Scholar Awards awarded to early-career investigators. These promising young researchers represent the best and the brightest in our field — I hope you enjoy learning more about them in the pages of this issue and will join me in continuing to support the Foundation and its work under the leadership of Dr. Michael Camilleri.
Also including a study investigating the impact of H pylori eradication on esophageal cancer risk. We also highlight several important studies relating to eosinophilic esophagitis, including a recent RCT published in The New England Journal of Medicine demonstrating the effectiveness of dupilumab in treatment of PPI-refractory pediatric EoE. Our August Member Spotlight features Dr. Neelendu Dey of Fred Hutchinson Cancer Center, who shares his perspectives on pursuing a career as a physician-scientist and chronicles his research focused on harnessing the microbiome for cancer prevention.
Finally, our quarterly In Focus column from The New Gastroenterologist provides practical advice regarding how best to evaluate patients with chronic bloating symptoms, a frequent presentation in our GI clinics. As always, thanks for reading and please don’t hesitate to reach out with suggestions for future coverage.
Megan A. Adams, MD, JD, MSc
Editor in Chief
The field of GI is rapidly evolving, fueled by new scientific discoveries leading to improved understanding of disease mechanisms and more effective treatment approaches for patients with digestive and liver diseases. But there are many challenges confronting the pipeline of early-career investigators essential to future discovery, most notably a constrained funding environment leading to decreased protected time for research during these critical early years.
Foundation awards, such as those funded by the AGA Research Foundation, play a pivotal role in supporting the career development of promising young investigators in basic, translational, clinical, and health services research and ensure that we have a strong pipeline of independent investigators to stimulate ongoing discovery and innovation in our field. This year, the AGA Research Foundation distributed $2.6 million in funding to 76 investigators, including six coveted Research Scholar Awards awarded to early-career investigators. These promising young researchers represent the best and the brightest in our field — I hope you enjoy learning more about them in the pages of this issue and will join me in continuing to support the Foundation and its work under the leadership of Dr. Michael Camilleri.
Also including a study investigating the impact of H pylori eradication on esophageal cancer risk. We also highlight several important studies relating to eosinophilic esophagitis, including a recent RCT published in The New England Journal of Medicine demonstrating the effectiveness of dupilumab in treatment of PPI-refractory pediatric EoE. Our August Member Spotlight features Dr. Neelendu Dey of Fred Hutchinson Cancer Center, who shares his perspectives on pursuing a career as a physician-scientist and chronicles his research focused on harnessing the microbiome for cancer prevention.
Finally, our quarterly In Focus column from The New Gastroenterologist provides practical advice regarding how best to evaluate patients with chronic bloating symptoms, a frequent presentation in our GI clinics. As always, thanks for reading and please don’t hesitate to reach out with suggestions for future coverage.
Megan A. Adams, MD, JD, MSc
Editor in Chief
The field of GI is rapidly evolving, fueled by new scientific discoveries leading to improved understanding of disease mechanisms and more effective treatment approaches for patients with digestive and liver diseases. But there are many challenges confronting the pipeline of early-career investigators essential to future discovery, most notably a constrained funding environment leading to decreased protected time for research during these critical early years.
Foundation awards, such as those funded by the AGA Research Foundation, play a pivotal role in supporting the career development of promising young investigators in basic, translational, clinical, and health services research and ensure that we have a strong pipeline of independent investigators to stimulate ongoing discovery and innovation in our field. This year, the AGA Research Foundation distributed $2.6 million in funding to 76 investigators, including six coveted Research Scholar Awards awarded to early-career investigators. These promising young researchers represent the best and the brightest in our field — I hope you enjoy learning more about them in the pages of this issue and will join me in continuing to support the Foundation and its work under the leadership of Dr. Michael Camilleri.
Also including a study investigating the impact of H pylori eradication on esophageal cancer risk. We also highlight several important studies relating to eosinophilic esophagitis, including a recent RCT published in The New England Journal of Medicine demonstrating the effectiveness of dupilumab in treatment of PPI-refractory pediatric EoE. Our August Member Spotlight features Dr. Neelendu Dey of Fred Hutchinson Cancer Center, who shares his perspectives on pursuing a career as a physician-scientist and chronicles his research focused on harnessing the microbiome for cancer prevention.
Finally, our quarterly In Focus column from The New Gastroenterologist provides practical advice regarding how best to evaluate patients with chronic bloating symptoms, a frequent presentation in our GI clinics. As always, thanks for reading and please don’t hesitate to reach out with suggestions for future coverage.
Megan A. Adams, MD, JD, MSc
Editor in Chief
Free Med School Alone Won’t Boost Diversity
This transcript has been edited for clarity.
We need more diverse students — more students from disadvantaged and underrepresented backgrounds in medical school. That is not a controversial take. That’s not even a new thought.
What is a hot take, however, is that free medical school alone is not going to accomplish this goal. In fact, based on data and what people think and are saying, that’s just reality.
I recently chatted about whether or not free medical school would motivate more students to pursue primary care. That was New York University’s (NYU’s) goal. If you haven’t seen that video, check it out. Now I want to explore whether free medical school would actually create a more diverse medical student body.
This topic is especially important now because, in 2023, the Supreme Court ended affirmative action for college admissions, and this naturally has a downstream effect when it comes to getting into medical school. Right now, about 6% of US physicians are Black or Hispanic/Latina, and around 0.1%-0.3% identify as Indigenous Americans, Native Hawaiians, or Pacific Islanders.
Is free medical school the answer? Well, that’s based on a huge assumption that the cost of medical school — incoming debt — is the single greatest barrier for students from diverse backgrounds, as if every single student from every background had the same level of resources in the same opportunity and were all equally competitive prior to applying, and just the prospect of debt is what caused the disparity. I don’t know if that’s reality. Let’s take a look at NYU.
After the free tuition announcement, total applications to the medical school went up nearly 50%. And from underrepresented groups, it was 100%. In 2019, the associate dean for admissions said, “A key driver was to remove a financial disincentive that dissuades people from pursuing a path in medicine.” But the acceptance rate stayed under 3%, and the average Medical College Admission Test (MCAT) and grade point average (GPA) to get in went up. Basically, the school just became more competitive.
I will always commend anyone, anywhere, who is making medical school more affordable and more accessible. With NYU, it seems a tuition gift just made it harder for students from disadvantaged backgrounds to actually get in. I mean, congratulations, you got more applications. This probably helped in ratings, and you got mentioned in news headlines, but are you actually achieving your mission?
At NYU, over the last few years, Black students made up about 11% of the medical school class, which is actually down from 2017 before the tuition gift. Students from low-income backgrounds, whom this would really benefit, used to make up around 12% of the class prior to the free tuition announcement, and now it’s around 3%-7%.
According to students from underrepresented backgrounds, the outreach and the equal opportunity need to start way earlier. The K-12 process needs to be addressed, as do mentorship opportunities and guidance throughout college, MCAT prep, resources for interviews, research opportunities, and so much more.
The following quote is from an interview with an interventional cardiology fellow who came here as a refugee: “For me, growing up, basic necessities like a quiet study space, high-speed internet, healthy meals and proper sleep were luxuries of which I could only dream. After resettling in the US as a political refugee, I lived in circumstances where such comforts were out of reach, and my path to medical school seemed insurmountable.”
I also spoke to a friend in pediatric cancer, Michael Galvez, MD, who was outspoken about the need to improve representation in medicine, about what he thought would actually work to diversify medical schools. He mentioned adversity scores or looking at the distance traveled for applicants, as well as efforts to recruit from local, state, and community colleges, which often reflect local underserved populations.
Dr. Galvez also agreed that although such metrics as GPA and MCAT are important, medical schools should also consider the impact applicants may have had for local, underserved communities and life experiences that may represent significant potential contributions applicants can make for public health.
The effort needs to start early. If we take a look at one of the most diverse medical schools in the country, UC Davis, we can see how this makes a difference. At UC Davis, in the class of 2026, about half of the 133 students come from underrepresented backgrounds in medicine. I’m taking a look at their website from the Office of Student and Resident Diversity, and it lists:
- K-12 outreach programs
- Undergraduate and community college programs
- Specific plans for postbaccalaureate students
- Support systems
- Resources for students that extend far beyond just premedical students
My home institution, Stanford School of Medicine, has similar programs as well, with similar ways for students from underrepresented backgrounds to find support and mentorship. This all makes a huge difference.
Regarding the actual admissions process for medical school, I’ll highlight the Johns Hopkins School of Medicine and the adaptions they’ve made to create a more fair and holistic process. It includes:
- A clear mission statement about diversity enhancement
- Anonymous voting
- A larger group to avoid bias
- Not showing academic metrics to interviewers
- Implicit association tests and trainings
- Removing photos from applications
- Appointing women, minorities, and young people with less implicit bias to the committees
Does this seem like a lot? It is, because a comprehensive approach is what it takes to build a more diverse US physician workforce, which will provide more culturally competent care, empower future generations, break down barriers and disparities in health care, and ultimately improve public health. Free tuition is awesome. I’m jealous. But on its own to solve these problems? This all feels like a misguided attempt.
Dr. Patel is clinical instructor, Department of Pediatrics, Columbia University College of Physicians and Surgeons, and pediatric hospitalist at Morgan Stanley Children’s Hospital of NewYork-Presbyterian, New York, and Benioff Children’s Hospital, University of California, San Francisco. He disclosed ties with Medumo Inc.
A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.
This transcript has been edited for clarity.
We need more diverse students — more students from disadvantaged and underrepresented backgrounds in medical school. That is not a controversial take. That’s not even a new thought.
What is a hot take, however, is that free medical school alone is not going to accomplish this goal. In fact, based on data and what people think and are saying, that’s just reality.
I recently chatted about whether or not free medical school would motivate more students to pursue primary care. That was New York University’s (NYU’s) goal. If you haven’t seen that video, check it out. Now I want to explore whether free medical school would actually create a more diverse medical student body.
This topic is especially important now because, in 2023, the Supreme Court ended affirmative action for college admissions, and this naturally has a downstream effect when it comes to getting into medical school. Right now, about 6% of US physicians are Black or Hispanic/Latina, and around 0.1%-0.3% identify as Indigenous Americans, Native Hawaiians, or Pacific Islanders.
Is free medical school the answer? Well, that’s based on a huge assumption that the cost of medical school — incoming debt — is the single greatest barrier for students from diverse backgrounds, as if every single student from every background had the same level of resources in the same opportunity and were all equally competitive prior to applying, and just the prospect of debt is what caused the disparity. I don’t know if that’s reality. Let’s take a look at NYU.
After the free tuition announcement, total applications to the medical school went up nearly 50%. And from underrepresented groups, it was 100%. In 2019, the associate dean for admissions said, “A key driver was to remove a financial disincentive that dissuades people from pursuing a path in medicine.” But the acceptance rate stayed under 3%, and the average Medical College Admission Test (MCAT) and grade point average (GPA) to get in went up. Basically, the school just became more competitive.
I will always commend anyone, anywhere, who is making medical school more affordable and more accessible. With NYU, it seems a tuition gift just made it harder for students from disadvantaged backgrounds to actually get in. I mean, congratulations, you got more applications. This probably helped in ratings, and you got mentioned in news headlines, but are you actually achieving your mission?
At NYU, over the last few years, Black students made up about 11% of the medical school class, which is actually down from 2017 before the tuition gift. Students from low-income backgrounds, whom this would really benefit, used to make up around 12% of the class prior to the free tuition announcement, and now it’s around 3%-7%.
According to students from underrepresented backgrounds, the outreach and the equal opportunity need to start way earlier. The K-12 process needs to be addressed, as do mentorship opportunities and guidance throughout college, MCAT prep, resources for interviews, research opportunities, and so much more.
The following quote is from an interview with an interventional cardiology fellow who came here as a refugee: “For me, growing up, basic necessities like a quiet study space, high-speed internet, healthy meals and proper sleep were luxuries of which I could only dream. After resettling in the US as a political refugee, I lived in circumstances where such comforts were out of reach, and my path to medical school seemed insurmountable.”
I also spoke to a friend in pediatric cancer, Michael Galvez, MD, who was outspoken about the need to improve representation in medicine, about what he thought would actually work to diversify medical schools. He mentioned adversity scores or looking at the distance traveled for applicants, as well as efforts to recruit from local, state, and community colleges, which often reflect local underserved populations.
Dr. Galvez also agreed that although such metrics as GPA and MCAT are important, medical schools should also consider the impact applicants may have had for local, underserved communities and life experiences that may represent significant potential contributions applicants can make for public health.
The effort needs to start early. If we take a look at one of the most diverse medical schools in the country, UC Davis, we can see how this makes a difference. At UC Davis, in the class of 2026, about half of the 133 students come from underrepresented backgrounds in medicine. I’m taking a look at their website from the Office of Student and Resident Diversity, and it lists:
- K-12 outreach programs
- Undergraduate and community college programs
- Specific plans for postbaccalaureate students
- Support systems
- Resources for students that extend far beyond just premedical students
My home institution, Stanford School of Medicine, has similar programs as well, with similar ways for students from underrepresented backgrounds to find support and mentorship. This all makes a huge difference.
Regarding the actual admissions process for medical school, I’ll highlight the Johns Hopkins School of Medicine and the adaptions they’ve made to create a more fair and holistic process. It includes:
- A clear mission statement about diversity enhancement
- Anonymous voting
- A larger group to avoid bias
- Not showing academic metrics to interviewers
- Implicit association tests and trainings
- Removing photos from applications
- Appointing women, minorities, and young people with less implicit bias to the committees
Does this seem like a lot? It is, because a comprehensive approach is what it takes to build a more diverse US physician workforce, which will provide more culturally competent care, empower future generations, break down barriers and disparities in health care, and ultimately improve public health. Free tuition is awesome. I’m jealous. But on its own to solve these problems? This all feels like a misguided attempt.
Dr. Patel is clinical instructor, Department of Pediatrics, Columbia University College of Physicians and Surgeons, and pediatric hospitalist at Morgan Stanley Children’s Hospital of NewYork-Presbyterian, New York, and Benioff Children’s Hospital, University of California, San Francisco. He disclosed ties with Medumo Inc.
A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.
This transcript has been edited for clarity.
We need more diverse students — more students from disadvantaged and underrepresented backgrounds in medical school. That is not a controversial take. That’s not even a new thought.
What is a hot take, however, is that free medical school alone is not going to accomplish this goal. In fact, based on data and what people think and are saying, that’s just reality.
I recently chatted about whether or not free medical school would motivate more students to pursue primary care. That was New York University’s (NYU’s) goal. If you haven’t seen that video, check it out. Now I want to explore whether free medical school would actually create a more diverse medical student body.
This topic is especially important now because, in 2023, the Supreme Court ended affirmative action for college admissions, and this naturally has a downstream effect when it comes to getting into medical school. Right now, about 6% of US physicians are Black or Hispanic/Latina, and around 0.1%-0.3% identify as Indigenous Americans, Native Hawaiians, or Pacific Islanders.
Is free medical school the answer? Well, that’s based on a huge assumption that the cost of medical school — incoming debt — is the single greatest barrier for students from diverse backgrounds, as if every single student from every background had the same level of resources in the same opportunity and were all equally competitive prior to applying, and just the prospect of debt is what caused the disparity. I don’t know if that’s reality. Let’s take a look at NYU.
After the free tuition announcement, total applications to the medical school went up nearly 50%. And from underrepresented groups, it was 100%. In 2019, the associate dean for admissions said, “A key driver was to remove a financial disincentive that dissuades people from pursuing a path in medicine.” But the acceptance rate stayed under 3%, and the average Medical College Admission Test (MCAT) and grade point average (GPA) to get in went up. Basically, the school just became more competitive.
I will always commend anyone, anywhere, who is making medical school more affordable and more accessible. With NYU, it seems a tuition gift just made it harder for students from disadvantaged backgrounds to actually get in. I mean, congratulations, you got more applications. This probably helped in ratings, and you got mentioned in news headlines, but are you actually achieving your mission?
At NYU, over the last few years, Black students made up about 11% of the medical school class, which is actually down from 2017 before the tuition gift. Students from low-income backgrounds, whom this would really benefit, used to make up around 12% of the class prior to the free tuition announcement, and now it’s around 3%-7%.
According to students from underrepresented backgrounds, the outreach and the equal opportunity need to start way earlier. The K-12 process needs to be addressed, as do mentorship opportunities and guidance throughout college, MCAT prep, resources for interviews, research opportunities, and so much more.
The following quote is from an interview with an interventional cardiology fellow who came here as a refugee: “For me, growing up, basic necessities like a quiet study space, high-speed internet, healthy meals and proper sleep were luxuries of which I could only dream. After resettling in the US as a political refugee, I lived in circumstances where such comforts were out of reach, and my path to medical school seemed insurmountable.”
I also spoke to a friend in pediatric cancer, Michael Galvez, MD, who was outspoken about the need to improve representation in medicine, about what he thought would actually work to diversify medical schools. He mentioned adversity scores or looking at the distance traveled for applicants, as well as efforts to recruit from local, state, and community colleges, which often reflect local underserved populations.
Dr. Galvez also agreed that although such metrics as GPA and MCAT are important, medical schools should also consider the impact applicants may have had for local, underserved communities and life experiences that may represent significant potential contributions applicants can make for public health.
The effort needs to start early. If we take a look at one of the most diverse medical schools in the country, UC Davis, we can see how this makes a difference. At UC Davis, in the class of 2026, about half of the 133 students come from underrepresented backgrounds in medicine. I’m taking a look at their website from the Office of Student and Resident Diversity, and it lists:
- K-12 outreach programs
- Undergraduate and community college programs
- Specific plans for postbaccalaureate students
- Support systems
- Resources for students that extend far beyond just premedical students
My home institution, Stanford School of Medicine, has similar programs as well, with similar ways for students from underrepresented backgrounds to find support and mentorship. This all makes a huge difference.
Regarding the actual admissions process for medical school, I’ll highlight the Johns Hopkins School of Medicine and the adaptions they’ve made to create a more fair and holistic process. It includes:
- A clear mission statement about diversity enhancement
- Anonymous voting
- A larger group to avoid bias
- Not showing academic metrics to interviewers
- Implicit association tests and trainings
- Removing photos from applications
- Appointing women, minorities, and young people with less implicit bias to the committees
Does this seem like a lot? It is, because a comprehensive approach is what it takes to build a more diverse US physician workforce, which will provide more culturally competent care, empower future generations, break down barriers and disparities in health care, and ultimately improve public health. Free tuition is awesome. I’m jealous. But on its own to solve these problems? This all feels like a misguided attempt.
Dr. Patel is clinical instructor, Department of Pediatrics, Columbia University College of Physicians and Surgeons, and pediatric hospitalist at Morgan Stanley Children’s Hospital of NewYork-Presbyterian, New York, and Benioff Children’s Hospital, University of California, San Francisco. He disclosed ties with Medumo Inc.
A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.
Last Call for Alcohol? Probably Not
For most of my formative years in medicine it was taken as gospel that 1-2 drinks/day, particularly red wine, was good for you.
Today though, the pendulum has swung the other way (granted, that could change in a year).
Recent re-analysis of the data now suggests there’s no benefit to any amount of alcohol. Zero. Zip. Nada.
This certainly isn’t the first time in medicine this has happened. It’s amazing how many studies end up getting re-analyzed, and re-re-analyzed, years later, with different conclusions reached.
It makes you wonder how these things happen. Possible explanations include flawed methodologies that either weren’t recognized at the time, confirmation bias, a rush to publish, and, rarely, outright fraud.
All of them, except for the last, are understandable. We all make mistakes. We’re all susceptible to the same statistical and psychological biases. Isn’t that part of the reason we do the peer-review process, so more than one pair of eyes can look for errors?
So, basically, no amount of alcohol is good for you.
Do I really think this is going to change anything? Hell no.
A huge amount of our culture revolves around alcohol. I’m not much of a drinker, but have no desire to give up my 2-3 beers per month, either. Just shopping in the store you see T-shirts, kitchen towels, gift bags, etc., that say things like “wine is just fruit salad” or “1 tequila, 2, tequila, 3 tequila, floor.”
The archaeological record suggests we began making alcoholic beverages 13,000 years ago. That’s a long time, and a pretty hard cultural habit to break. For comparison, tobacco has only been used for 3000 years.
In one of our strangest moments, America launched a 13-year experiment in prohibition, which failed miserably. Think about that. One hundred years ago, in 1924, you couldn’t legally buy alcohol anywhere in the United States. You had to break the law to get a drink, which most people did. Even then it was dangerous —in order to keep industrial ethanol from being sold to the public it was denatured with various toxins. As a result several thousand Americans died from their routine nightcap — with the government’s blessing.
Basically, alcohol isn’t going away. Not now, probably not ever.
There may be some out there who will alter their drinking habits based on the study, but I doubt it. I just don’t see too many people having a glass solely for the same reason they might take Lipitor or a multivitamin.
But I have no issue with correcting the original data. In medicine, and life in general, finding out what works is just as important as learning what doesn’t.
Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.
For most of my formative years in medicine it was taken as gospel that 1-2 drinks/day, particularly red wine, was good for you.
Today though, the pendulum has swung the other way (granted, that could change in a year).
Recent re-analysis of the data now suggests there’s no benefit to any amount of alcohol. Zero. Zip. Nada.
This certainly isn’t the first time in medicine this has happened. It’s amazing how many studies end up getting re-analyzed, and re-re-analyzed, years later, with different conclusions reached.
It makes you wonder how these things happen. Possible explanations include flawed methodologies that either weren’t recognized at the time, confirmation bias, a rush to publish, and, rarely, outright fraud.
All of them, except for the last, are understandable. We all make mistakes. We’re all susceptible to the same statistical and psychological biases. Isn’t that part of the reason we do the peer-review process, so more than one pair of eyes can look for errors?
So, basically, no amount of alcohol is good for you.
Do I really think this is going to change anything? Hell no.
A huge amount of our culture revolves around alcohol. I’m not much of a drinker, but have no desire to give up my 2-3 beers per month, either. Just shopping in the store you see T-shirts, kitchen towels, gift bags, etc., that say things like “wine is just fruit salad” or “1 tequila, 2, tequila, 3 tequila, floor.”
The archaeological record suggests we began making alcoholic beverages 13,000 years ago. That’s a long time, and a pretty hard cultural habit to break. For comparison, tobacco has only been used for 3000 years.
In one of our strangest moments, America launched a 13-year experiment in prohibition, which failed miserably. Think about that. One hundred years ago, in 1924, you couldn’t legally buy alcohol anywhere in the United States. You had to break the law to get a drink, which most people did. Even then it was dangerous —in order to keep industrial ethanol from being sold to the public it was denatured with various toxins. As a result several thousand Americans died from their routine nightcap — with the government’s blessing.
Basically, alcohol isn’t going away. Not now, probably not ever.
There may be some out there who will alter their drinking habits based on the study, but I doubt it. I just don’t see too many people having a glass solely for the same reason they might take Lipitor or a multivitamin.
But I have no issue with correcting the original data. In medicine, and life in general, finding out what works is just as important as learning what doesn’t.
Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.
For most of my formative years in medicine it was taken as gospel that 1-2 drinks/day, particularly red wine, was good for you.
Today though, the pendulum has swung the other way (granted, that could change in a year).
Recent re-analysis of the data now suggests there’s no benefit to any amount of alcohol. Zero. Zip. Nada.
This certainly isn’t the first time in medicine this has happened. It’s amazing how many studies end up getting re-analyzed, and re-re-analyzed, years later, with different conclusions reached.
It makes you wonder how these things happen. Possible explanations include flawed methodologies that either weren’t recognized at the time, confirmation bias, a rush to publish, and, rarely, outright fraud.
All of them, except for the last, are understandable. We all make mistakes. We’re all susceptible to the same statistical and psychological biases. Isn’t that part of the reason we do the peer-review process, so more than one pair of eyes can look for errors?
So, basically, no amount of alcohol is good for you.
Do I really think this is going to change anything? Hell no.
A huge amount of our culture revolves around alcohol. I’m not much of a drinker, but have no desire to give up my 2-3 beers per month, either. Just shopping in the store you see T-shirts, kitchen towels, gift bags, etc., that say things like “wine is just fruit salad” or “1 tequila, 2, tequila, 3 tequila, floor.”
The archaeological record suggests we began making alcoholic beverages 13,000 years ago. That’s a long time, and a pretty hard cultural habit to break. For comparison, tobacco has only been used for 3000 years.
In one of our strangest moments, America launched a 13-year experiment in prohibition, which failed miserably. Think about that. One hundred years ago, in 1924, you couldn’t legally buy alcohol anywhere in the United States. You had to break the law to get a drink, which most people did. Even then it was dangerous —in order to keep industrial ethanol from being sold to the public it was denatured with various toxins. As a result several thousand Americans died from their routine nightcap — with the government’s blessing.
Basically, alcohol isn’t going away. Not now, probably not ever.
There may be some out there who will alter their drinking habits based on the study, but I doubt it. I just don’t see too many people having a glass solely for the same reason they might take Lipitor or a multivitamin.
But I have no issue with correcting the original data. In medicine, and life in general, finding out what works is just as important as learning what doesn’t.
Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.