Mark A. Lewis, MD

This transcript has been edited for clarity. 

Hello. I’m Mark Lewis, director of gastrointestinal (GI) oncology at Intermountain Health in Utah. I’m speaking from the 2024 ASCO Annual Meeting in Chicago, where we’ve seen some interesting, new data in GI cancers.

If you allow me, I’d like to go in a craniocaudal fashion. It’s my anatomic mnemonic. I think that’s appropriate because our plenary session yesterday kicked off with some exciting data in esophageal cancer, specifically esophageal adenocarcinoma. 

This was the long-awaited ESOPEC trial. It’s a phase 3 study looking at perioperative FLOT (5-FU/leucovorin/oxaliplatin/docetaxel), a chemo triplet, vs the CROSS protocol, which is neoadjuvant chemoradiation with carboplatin and paclitaxel. The primary endpoint was overall survival, and at first blush, FLOT looked to be the true winner. There were some really remarkable milestones in this study, and I have some reservations about the FLOT arm that I’ll raise in just a second. 

The investigators are to be commended because in a truly deadly disease, they reported a 5-year overall survival in half of the patients who were receiving FLOT. That is truly commendable and really a milestone in our field. The reason I take a little bit of issue with the trial is that I still have some questions about methodology.

It wasn’t that long ago at ASCO GI that there was a really heated debate called “FLOT or Not” — not in this precise setting, but asking the question, do we think that patients with upper GI malignancy are even fit enough to handle a chemo triplet like FLOT? 

The reason I bring that up now in 2024 is that, to my surprise, and I think to many others’, there was a lower-than-expected completion rate of the patients in this trial who were receiving the CROSS regimen. The number of people who were able to complete that in full was about two-thirds, which compared with a historical control from a trial scheme that first emerged over a decade ago that used to be over 90% completion. I found that quite strange. 

I also think this trial suffers a little bit, and unavoidably, from the evolution of care that’s happened since it was first enrolling. Of course, I refer to adjuvant immunotherapy. Now, the real question is whether there is synergy between patients who receive radiation upfront and then adjuvant nivolumab, as per CheckMate 577. 

In her plenary discussion, I thought Dr. Karyn Goodman did a masterful job — I would encourage you to watch it on ASCO’s website —discussing how we can take all these data and reconcile them for optimal patient outcome. She ultimately suggested that we might deploy all four modalities in the management of these people. 

She proposed a paradigm with a PET-adapted, upfront induction chemotherapy, then moving to chemoradiation, then moving to surgery, and finally moving to immunotherapy. That is all four of the traditional arms of oncology. I find that really rather remarkable. Watch that space. This is a great trial with really remarkable survival data, but I’m not entirely convinced that the CROSS arm was given its due. 

Next up, I want to talk about pancreas cancer, which is something near and dear to my heart. It affects about one in four of my patients and it remains, unfortunately, a highly lethal disease. I think the top-line news from this meeting is that the KRAS mutation is druggable. I’m probably showing my age, but when I did my fellowship in 2009 through 2012, I was taught that KRAS was sort of the undruggable mutation par excellence. At this meeting, we’ve seen maturing data in regard to targeting KRAS G12C with both sotorasib and adagrasib. The disease control rates are astounding, at 80% and more, which is really remarkable. I wouldn’t have believed that even a few years ago. 

I’m even more excited about how we bring a rising tide that can lift all boats and apply this to other KRAS mutations, and not just KRAS G12C but all KRAS mutations. I think that’s coming, hopefully, with the pan-RAS inhibitors, because once that happens — if that happens; I’ll try not to be irrationally exuberant — that would take the traditional mutation found in almost all pancreas cancers and really make it its own Achilles heel. I think that could be such a huge leap forward. 

Another matter, however, that remains unresolved at this meeting is in the neoadjuvant setting with pancreatic ductal adenocarcinoma. There’s still equipoise, actually, between neoadjuvant gemcitabine, paclitaxel, and FOLFIRINOX. I thought that that was very well spelled out by some of our Dutch colleagues, who continue to do great work in a variety of cancers, including colorectal. 

Where I’d like to move next is colorectal cancer. Of course, immunotherapy remains a hot topic at all of these conferences. There were three different aspects of immunotherapy I’d like to highlight at this conference in regard to colon and rectal cancer. 

First, Dr. Heinz-Josef Lenz presented updated data from CheckMate 8HW, which looked at nivolumab and ipilimumab (nivo/ipi) vs chemotherapy in the first line for MSI-high or mismatch repair–deficient colon cancer. Once again, the data we’ve had now for several years at the 2-year mark are incredibly impressive. The 2-year progression-free survival (PFS) rates for nivo/ipi are above 70% and down at around 14% for chemo. 

What was impressive about this meeting is that Dr. Lenz presented PFS2, trying to determine the impact, if any, of subsequent therapy. What was going on here, which I think was ethically responsible by the investigators, was crossover. About two-thirds of the chemo arm crossed over to any form of immuno-oncology (IO), and just under a half crossed over to nivo and ipi. The PFS benefits continued with up-front IO. The way that Dr. Lenz phrased it is that you really never get the chance to win back the benefit that you would derive by giving immunotherapy first line to someone who has MSI-high or mismatch repair–deficient metastatic colon cancer. 

One thing that’s still not settled in my mind, though, is, does this really dethrone single-agent immunotherapy, such as pembrolizumab in KEYNOTE-177? What I’m really driving at is the ipilimumab. Is the juice worth the squeeze? Is the addition of an anti-CTLA4 agent worth the toxicity that we know comes along with that mechanism of action? Watch this space. 

I was also really interested in NEOPRISM-CRC, which looked at the role of immunotherapy in neoadjuvant down-staging of radiographically high-risk stage II or stage III colon cancer. Here, the investigators really make a strong case that, up front in these potentially respectable cases, not only should we know about mismatch repair deficiency but we should actually be interrogating further for tumor mutational burden (TMB). 

They had TMB-high patients. In fact, the median TMB was 42 mutations per megabase, with really impressive down-staging using three cycles of every-3-week pembrolizumab before surgery. Again, I really think we’re at an exciting time where, even for colon cancer that looks operable up front, we might actually have the opportunity to improve pathologic and clinical complete responses before and after surgery. 

Finally, I want to bring up what continues to amaze me. Two years ago, at ASCO 2022, we heard from Dr. Andrea Cercek and the Memorial Sloan Kettering group about the incredible experience they were having with neoadjuvant, or frankly, definitive dostarlimab in mismatch repair–deficient locally advanced rectal cancer. 

I remember being at the conference and there was simultaneous publication of that abstract in The New York Times because it was so remarkable. There was a 100% clinical complete response. The patients didn’t require radiation, they didn’t require chemotherapy, and they didn’t require surgery for locally advanced rectal cancer, provided there was this vulnerability of mismatch-repair deficiency. 

Now, 2 years later, Dr. Cercek and her group have updated those data with more than 40 patients, and again, a 100% clinical complete response, including mature, complete responses at over a year in about 20 patients. Again, we are really doing our rectal cancer patients a disservice if we’re not checking for mismatch-repair deficiency upfront, and especially if we’re not talking about them in multidisciplinary conferences. 

One of the things that absolutely blows my mind about rectal cancer is just how complicated it’s becoming. I think it is the standard of care to discuss these cases upfront with radiation oncology, surgical oncology, medical oncology, and pathology. 

Maybe the overarching message I would take from everything I’ve said today is that the oncologist without the pathologist is blind. It’s really a dyad, a partnership that guides optimal medical oncology care. As much as I love ASCO, I often wish we had more of our pathology colleagues here. I look forward to taking all the findings from this meeting back to the tumor board and really having a dynamic dialogue.

Dr. Lewis is director, Department of Gastrointestinal Oncology, Intermountain Health, Salt Lake City, Utah. He has disclosed no relevant financial relationships. 

A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.

This transcript has been edited for clarity. 

Hello. I’m Mark Lewis, director of gastrointestinal (GI) oncology at Intermountain Health in Utah. I’m speaking from the 2024 ASCO Annual Meeting in Chicago, where we’ve seen some interesting, new data in GI cancers.

If you allow me, I’d like to go in a craniocaudal fashion. It’s my anatomic mnemonic. I think that’s appropriate because our plenary session yesterday kicked off with some exciting data in esophageal cancer, specifically esophageal adenocarcinoma. 

This was the long-awaited ESOPEC trial. It’s a phase 3 study looking at perioperative FLOT (5-FU/leucovorin/oxaliplatin/docetaxel), a chemo triplet, vs the CROSS protocol, which is neoadjuvant chemoradiation with carboplatin and paclitaxel. The primary endpoint was overall survival, and at first blush, FLOT looked to be the true winner. There were some really remarkable milestones in this study, and I have some reservations about the FLOT arm that I’ll raise in just a second. 

The investigators are to be commended because in a truly deadly disease, they reported a 5-year overall survival in half of the patients who were receiving FLOT. That is truly commendable and really a milestone in our field. The reason I take a little bit of issue with the trial is that I still have some questions about methodology.

It wasn’t that long ago at ASCO GI that there was a really heated debate called “FLOT or Not” — not in this precise setting, but asking the question, do we think that patients with upper GI malignancy are even fit enough to handle a chemo triplet like FLOT? 

The reason I bring that up now in 2024 is that, to my surprise, and I think to many others’, there was a lower-than-expected completion rate of the patients in this trial who were receiving the CROSS regimen. The number of people who were able to complete that in full was about two-thirds, which compared with a historical control from a trial scheme that first emerged over a decade ago that used to be over 90% completion. I found that quite strange. 

I also think this trial suffers a little bit, and unavoidably, from the evolution of care that’s happened since it was first enrolling. Of course, I refer to adjuvant immunotherapy. Now, the real question is whether there is synergy between patients who receive radiation upfront and then adjuvant nivolumab, as per CheckMate 577. 

In her plenary discussion, I thought Dr. Karyn Goodman did a masterful job — I would encourage you to watch it on ASCO’s website —discussing how we can take all these data and reconcile them for optimal patient outcome. She ultimately suggested that we might deploy all four modalities in the management of these people. 

She proposed a paradigm with a PET-adapted, upfront induction chemotherapy, then moving to chemoradiation, then moving to surgery, and finally moving to immunotherapy. That is all four of the traditional arms of oncology. I find that really rather remarkable. Watch that space. This is a great trial with really remarkable survival data, but I’m not entirely convinced that the CROSS arm was given its due. 

Next up, I want to talk about pancreas cancer, which is something near and dear to my heart. It affects about one in four of my patients and it remains, unfortunately, a highly lethal disease. I think the top-line news from this meeting is that the KRAS mutation is druggable. I’m probably showing my age, but when I did my fellowship in 2009 through 2012, I was taught that KRAS was sort of the undruggable mutation par excellence. At this meeting, we’ve seen maturing data in regard to targeting KRAS G12C with both sotorasib and adagrasib. The disease control rates are astounding, at 80% and more, which is really remarkable. I wouldn’t have believed that even a few years ago. 

I’m even more excited about how we bring a rising tide that can lift all boats and apply this to other KRAS mutations, and not just KRAS G12C but all KRAS mutations. I think that’s coming, hopefully, with the pan-RAS inhibitors, because once that happens — if that happens; I’ll try not to be irrationally exuberant — that would take the traditional mutation found in almost all pancreas cancers and really make it its own Achilles heel. I think that could be such a huge leap forward. 

Another matter, however, that remains unresolved at this meeting is in the neoadjuvant setting with pancreatic ductal adenocarcinoma. There’s still equipoise, actually, between neoadjuvant gemcitabine, paclitaxel, and FOLFIRINOX. I thought that that was very well spelled out by some of our Dutch colleagues, who continue to do great work in a variety of cancers, including colorectal. 

Where I’d like to move next is colorectal cancer. Of course, immunotherapy remains a hot topic at all of these conferences. There were three different aspects of immunotherapy I’d like to highlight at this conference in regard to colon and rectal cancer. 

First, Dr. Heinz-Josef Lenz presented updated data from CheckMate 8HW, which looked at nivolumab and ipilimumab (nivo/ipi) vs chemotherapy in the first line for MSI-high or mismatch repair–deficient colon cancer. Once again, the data we’ve had now for several years at the 2-year mark are incredibly impressive. The 2-year progression-free survival (PFS) rates for nivo/ipi are above 70% and down at around 14% for chemo. 

What was impressive about this meeting is that Dr. Lenz presented PFS2, trying to determine the impact, if any, of subsequent therapy. What was going on here, which I think was ethically responsible by the investigators, was crossover. About two-thirds of the chemo arm crossed over to any form of immuno-oncology (IO), and just under a half crossed over to nivo and ipi. The PFS benefits continued with up-front IO. The way that Dr. Lenz phrased it is that you really never get the chance to win back the benefit that you would derive by giving immunotherapy first line to someone who has MSI-high or mismatch repair–deficient metastatic colon cancer. 

One thing that’s still not settled in my mind, though, is, does this really dethrone single-agent immunotherapy, such as pembrolizumab in KEYNOTE-177? What I’m really driving at is the ipilimumab. Is the juice worth the squeeze? Is the addition of an anti-CTLA4 agent worth the toxicity that we know comes along with that mechanism of action? Watch this space. 

I was also really interested in NEOPRISM-CRC, which looked at the role of immunotherapy in neoadjuvant down-staging of radiographically high-risk stage II or stage III colon cancer. Here, the investigators really make a strong case that, up front in these potentially respectable cases, not only should we know about mismatch repair deficiency but we should actually be interrogating further for tumor mutational burden (TMB). 

They had TMB-high patients. In fact, the median TMB was 42 mutations per megabase, with really impressive down-staging using three cycles of every-3-week pembrolizumab before surgery. Again, I really think we’re at an exciting time where, even for colon cancer that looks operable up front, we might actually have the opportunity to improve pathologic and clinical complete responses before and after surgery. 

Finally, I want to bring up what continues to amaze me. Two years ago, at ASCO 2022, we heard from Dr. Andrea Cercek and the Memorial Sloan Kettering group about the incredible experience they were having with neoadjuvant, or frankly, definitive dostarlimab in mismatch repair–deficient locally advanced rectal cancer. 

I remember being at the conference and there was simultaneous publication of that abstract in The New York Times because it was so remarkable. There was a 100% clinical complete response. The patients didn’t require radiation, they didn’t require chemotherapy, and they didn’t require surgery for locally advanced rectal cancer, provided there was this vulnerability of mismatch-repair deficiency. 

Now, 2 years later, Dr. Cercek and her group have updated those data with more than 40 patients, and again, a 100% clinical complete response, including mature, complete responses at over a year in about 20 patients. Again, we are really doing our rectal cancer patients a disservice if we’re not checking for mismatch-repair deficiency upfront, and especially if we’re not talking about them in multidisciplinary conferences. 

One of the things that absolutely blows my mind about rectal cancer is just how complicated it’s becoming. I think it is the standard of care to discuss these cases upfront with radiation oncology, surgical oncology, medical oncology, and pathology. 

Maybe the overarching message I would take from everything I’ve said today is that the oncologist without the pathologist is blind. It’s really a dyad, a partnership that guides optimal medical oncology care. As much as I love ASCO, I often wish we had more of our pathology colleagues here. I look forward to taking all the findings from this meeting back to the tumor board and really having a dynamic dialogue.

Dr. Lewis is director, Department of Gastrointestinal Oncology, Intermountain Health, Salt Lake City, Utah. He has disclosed no relevant financial relationships. 

A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.

This transcript has been edited for clarity. 

Hello. I’m Mark Lewis, director of gastrointestinal (GI) oncology at Intermountain Health in Utah. I’m speaking from the 2024 ASCO Annual Meeting in Chicago, where we’ve seen some interesting, new data in GI cancers.

If you allow me, I’d like to go in a craniocaudal fashion. It’s my anatomic mnemonic. I think that’s appropriate because our plenary session yesterday kicked off with some exciting data in esophageal cancer, specifically esophageal adenocarcinoma. 

This was the long-awaited ESOPEC trial. It’s a phase 3 study looking at perioperative FLOT (5-FU/leucovorin/oxaliplatin/docetaxel), a chemo triplet, vs the CROSS protocol, which is neoadjuvant chemoradiation with carboplatin and paclitaxel. The primary endpoint was overall survival, and at first blush, FLOT looked to be the true winner. There were some really remarkable milestones in this study, and I have some reservations about the FLOT arm that I’ll raise in just a second. 

The investigators are to be commended because in a truly deadly disease, they reported a 5-year overall survival in half of the patients who were receiving FLOT. That is truly commendable and really a milestone in our field. The reason I take a little bit of issue with the trial is that I still have some questions about methodology.

It wasn’t that long ago at ASCO GI that there was a really heated debate called “FLOT or Not” — not in this precise setting, but asking the question, do we think that patients with upper GI malignancy are even fit enough to handle a chemo triplet like FLOT? 

The reason I bring that up now in 2024 is that, to my surprise, and I think to many others’, there was a lower-than-expected completion rate of the patients in this trial who were receiving the CROSS regimen. The number of people who were able to complete that in full was about two-thirds, which compared with a historical control from a trial scheme that first emerged over a decade ago that used to be over 90% completion. I found that quite strange. 

I also think this trial suffers a little bit, and unavoidably, from the evolution of care that’s happened since it was first enrolling. Of course, I refer to adjuvant immunotherapy. Now, the real question is whether there is synergy between patients who receive radiation upfront and then adjuvant nivolumab, as per CheckMate 577. 

In her plenary discussion, I thought Dr. Karyn Goodman did a masterful job — I would encourage you to watch it on ASCO’s website —discussing how we can take all these data and reconcile them for optimal patient outcome. She ultimately suggested that we might deploy all four modalities in the management of these people. 

She proposed a paradigm with a PET-adapted, upfront induction chemotherapy, then moving to chemoradiation, then moving to surgery, and finally moving to immunotherapy. That is all four of the traditional arms of oncology. I find that really rather remarkable. Watch that space. This is a great trial with really remarkable survival data, but I’m not entirely convinced that the CROSS arm was given its due. 

Next up, I want to talk about pancreas cancer, which is something near and dear to my heart. It affects about one in four of my patients and it remains, unfortunately, a highly lethal disease. I think the top-line news from this meeting is that the KRAS mutation is druggable. I’m probably showing my age, but when I did my fellowship in 2009 through 2012, I was taught that KRAS was sort of the undruggable mutation par excellence. At this meeting, we’ve seen maturing data in regard to targeting KRAS G12C with both sotorasib and adagrasib. The disease control rates are astounding, at 80% and more, which is really remarkable. I wouldn’t have believed that even a few years ago. 

I’m even more excited about how we bring a rising tide that can lift all boats and apply this to other KRAS mutations, and not just KRAS G12C but all KRAS mutations. I think that’s coming, hopefully, with the pan-RAS inhibitors, because once that happens — if that happens; I’ll try not to be irrationally exuberant — that would take the traditional mutation found in almost all pancreas cancers and really make it its own Achilles heel. I think that could be such a huge leap forward. 

Another matter, however, that remains unresolved at this meeting is in the neoadjuvant setting with pancreatic ductal adenocarcinoma. There’s still equipoise, actually, between neoadjuvant gemcitabine, paclitaxel, and FOLFIRINOX. I thought that that was very well spelled out by some of our Dutch colleagues, who continue to do great work in a variety of cancers, including colorectal. 

Where I’d like to move next is colorectal cancer. Of course, immunotherapy remains a hot topic at all of these conferences. There were three different aspects of immunotherapy I’d like to highlight at this conference in regard to colon and rectal cancer. 

First, Dr. Heinz-Josef Lenz presented updated data from CheckMate 8HW, which looked at nivolumab and ipilimumab (nivo/ipi) vs chemotherapy in the first line for MSI-high or mismatch repair–deficient colon cancer. Once again, the data we’ve had now for several years at the 2-year mark are incredibly impressive. The 2-year progression-free survival (PFS) rates for nivo/ipi are above 70% and down at around 14% for chemo. 

What was impressive about this meeting is that Dr. Lenz presented PFS2, trying to determine the impact, if any, of subsequent therapy. What was going on here, which I think was ethically responsible by the investigators, was crossover. About two-thirds of the chemo arm crossed over to any form of immuno-oncology (IO), and just under a half crossed over to nivo and ipi. The PFS benefits continued with up-front IO. The way that Dr. Lenz phrased it is that you really never get the chance to win back the benefit that you would derive by giving immunotherapy first line to someone who has MSI-high or mismatch repair–deficient metastatic colon cancer. 

One thing that’s still not settled in my mind, though, is, does this really dethrone single-agent immunotherapy, such as pembrolizumab in KEYNOTE-177? What I’m really driving at is the ipilimumab. Is the juice worth the squeeze? Is the addition of an anti-CTLA4 agent worth the toxicity that we know comes along with that mechanism of action? Watch this space. 

I was also really interested in NEOPRISM-CRC, which looked at the role of immunotherapy in neoadjuvant down-staging of radiographically high-risk stage II or stage III colon cancer. Here, the investigators really make a strong case that, up front in these potentially respectable cases, not only should we know about mismatch repair deficiency but we should actually be interrogating further for tumor mutational burden (TMB). 

They had TMB-high patients. In fact, the median TMB was 42 mutations per megabase, with really impressive down-staging using three cycles of every-3-week pembrolizumab before surgery. Again, I really think we’re at an exciting time where, even for colon cancer that looks operable up front, we might actually have the opportunity to improve pathologic and clinical complete responses before and after surgery. 

Finally, I want to bring up what continues to amaze me. Two years ago, at ASCO 2022, we heard from Dr. Andrea Cercek and the Memorial Sloan Kettering group about the incredible experience they were having with neoadjuvant, or frankly, definitive dostarlimab in mismatch repair–deficient locally advanced rectal cancer. 

I remember being at the conference and there was simultaneous publication of that abstract in The New York Times because it was so remarkable. There was a 100% clinical complete response. The patients didn’t require radiation, they didn’t require chemotherapy, and they didn’t require surgery for locally advanced rectal cancer, provided there was this vulnerability of mismatch-repair deficiency. 

Now, 2 years later, Dr. Cercek and her group have updated those data with more than 40 patients, and again, a 100% clinical complete response, including mature, complete responses at over a year in about 20 patients. Again, we are really doing our rectal cancer patients a disservice if we’re not checking for mismatch-repair deficiency upfront, and especially if we’re not talking about them in multidisciplinary conferences. 

One of the things that absolutely blows my mind about rectal cancer is just how complicated it’s becoming. I think it is the standard of care to discuss these cases upfront with radiation oncology, surgical oncology, medical oncology, and pathology. 

Maybe the overarching message I would take from everything I’ve said today is that the oncologist without the pathologist is blind. It’s really a dyad, a partnership that guides optimal medical oncology care. As much as I love ASCO, I often wish we had more of our pathology colleagues here. I look forward to taking all the findings from this meeting back to the tumor board and really having a dynamic dialogue.

Dr. Lewis is director, Department of Gastrointestinal Oncology, Intermountain Health, Salt Lake City, Utah. He has disclosed no relevant financial relationships. 

A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.

This transcript has been edited for clarity.

This month, I want to tackle the difficult subject of violence toward healthcare workers. There’s a reason this is top of mind for me in my practice, but I want to start by acknowledging that this has been a much larger issue for our profession and one that has been growing for a number of years now.

The US Bureau of Labor Statistics estimates that medical professionals are fivefold more likely than members of other industries to suffer workplace violence. They also estimate that that rate doubled between 2011 and 2018. I think that range is important because it proves this was a problem, and a crescendoing problem, even before COVID.

Another thing I think is relevant is to look at where in the healthcare system are these attacks most likely. In the emergency room, ER staff have seen hostility toward them rise by at least 25% over the past several years. Some of the seeds of mistrust that were sown between the general public and the scientific and medical communities around the pandemic. I think there’s some explanation there for why that might be a particular crucible.

Perhaps most disturbingly of all, 60% of the victims of healthcare workplace violence are bedside nurses. There is something about the intensity of the inpatient setting that makes nerves particularly frayed and unfortunately makes patients and family members more likely to lash out. I think it’s actually the heightened sense of mortality.

I’m not excusing any of these behaviors, but maybe it’s akin to road rage. On the road, behind the wheel, tiny gestures can actually be, on some level, perceived as threats to our survival. Another driver swerving into your lane activates a fight-or-flight response, you feel threatened, and you might respond in the moment very rashly. I wonder if we’re not seeing that, quite unfairly, play out against bedside staff in our hospitals.

Here’s the thing. Those of us who practice in the outpatient setting — 95% of my work, for instance, happens in clinic — are not immune to this either. There are some very harrowing recent examples of physicians being killed, typically at gunpoint, often by patients, sometimes by aggrieved family members, in their offices. An orthopedist in Tennessee, a back surgeon in Tulsa, along with three of their colleagues. In the latter case, the assailant specifically blamed the surgeon for their pain.

This is where I think things get even more scary. We have to be the bearers of bad news in our profession. This has long been the task of the oncologist, in particular, to convey things that people don’t want to hear.

I think what brought this to my mind in terms of my reading was an incredible article in The ASCO Post and also in the Journal of Clinical Oncology by Dr. Noelle LoConte, who’s a medical oncologist in Wisconsin. The article is called, “I Want to Kill You,” and it recounts her telling a previously stage III colon cancer patient, with whom she thought she had good rapport, that the disease had recurred. The patient’s immediate reaction in the heat of that moment was to say, Dr LoConte, I want to kill you. I want to blow your face off.

Already, there’s clearly tension when we are telling people what they don’t want to hear. I think the final piece of the puzzle goes back to the intrusion of the business of healthcare on the practice of medicine. This is what I witnessed very recently. One of the things that’s interesting to think about is how what we do is now framed as customer service. I know there’s deriding of this model, but if perception is reality, we have a system where patients are set up to view themselves as consumers.

Let’s say, for instance, you’re in the unfortunate circumstance of being diagnosed with cancer and your insurer gives you the option to go to multiple oncologists. If you’re online browsing for oncologists, how do you differentiate me from some of my colleagues? The answer on these rating websites often has to do with domains that are about the overall experience — not just the patient-doctor interaction but also things like wait time, friendliness of staff, and promptness of care delivery.

That, I think, is the final piece of the puzzle, because what I really risk when I sit down with a patient and lay out a treatment plan is overpromising and underdelivering. I am long used to citing median overall survival for expectation of outcome. Of course, every patient wants to be an exceptional responder. Most patients want to be on the latter half of median survival. No one wants to be on the disappointingly shorter half.

My point is that I’ve long been able to mitigate that uncertainty for patients. What is getting harder and harder to explain away is the delay incurred between someone’s diagnosis, my meeting them and laying out a treatment plan, and their actual initiation of that therapy.

This finally brings me to my recent personal encounter. I have long taken care of a patient, much like Dr LoConte’s, with an extremely calm demeanor. I thought we had a great therapeutic alliance. I had to tell the patient that the disease had recurred, and then I laid out a treatment plan. It took weeks and then months for the insurer to approve this plan despite my providing my note in a timely fashion with a mountain of evidence behind the regimen that I’d selected.

This is where I think insurers — when they deny, deflect, and delay — are not taking adequate responsibility for the impact that has on the therapeutic alliance between a patient and their doctor. These people are trusting us with their lives. As an oncologist, I’ve already told them something they didn’t want to hear, and now I’m compounding that with the uncertainty of when we can actually begin treatment.

This gentleman — who, again, is normally extremely kind and affable — showed up at my office and was incredibly hostile toward me and my staff because of the delay that he was encountering. We literally couldn’t tell him when his insurer was going to approve his treatment, which would have been financially disastrous if he had tried to pay for it himself out of pocket. He needed his insurer’s approval before we could start, but we didn’t know when he could start. That uncertainty and not knowing was gnawing away at him until he was at the end of his rope.

What I’m here to say is that this has been a difficult couple of years in healthcare. I’m well aware that our ER staff are on the front lines, as are our bedside and inpatient teams. Even in the outpatient setting, I think we’re seeing this crucible and we’re seeing the pressure just grow, and grow, and grow. It’s like fracking. The more you increase the pressure, the more eventually you’re going to find out where the cracks are.

These patients are the ultimate stakeholders. It’s their lives on the line, and we should be concerned, but perhaps ultimately not surprised, that they’re lashing out to be heard. Given no other resort, they are taking out their frustration and their aggression on us. It›s not fair, but I am newly aware of it because, in a patient with whom I thought we had a superb rapport, I saw that vanish. As soon as he thought that his life was at risk, his fight-or-flight response kicked in. I was not dealing with the same man I knew. I was dealing with someone who was desperate and who just wanted to know when he could get the treatment.

I think this has taken the likelihood of workplace hostility to a whole other level for those of us in healthcare.

For any patients listening, I beg of you, please don’t shoot the messenger. We are here to serve you the best we can, but there are many external factors at play. We are doing our best to mitigate those for you so we can deliver the care that we promised in as timely a fashion as we can.

I hope everyone out there can stay safe. Thank you.
 

Dr. Lewis is director of gastrointestinal oncology at Intermountain Healthcare in Salt Lake City, Utah. He has an interest in neuroendocrine tumors, hereditary cancer syndromes, and patient-physician communication. He has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.

This transcript has been edited for clarity.

This month, I want to tackle the difficult subject of violence toward healthcare workers. There’s a reason this is top of mind for me in my practice, but I want to start by acknowledging that this has been a much larger issue for our profession and one that has been growing for a number of years now.

The US Bureau of Labor Statistics estimates that medical professionals are fivefold more likely than members of other industries to suffer workplace violence. They also estimate that that rate doubled between 2011 and 2018. I think that range is important because it proves this was a problem, and a crescendoing problem, even before COVID.

Another thing I think is relevant is to look at where in the healthcare system are these attacks most likely. In the emergency room, ER staff have seen hostility toward them rise by at least 25% over the past several years. Some of the seeds of mistrust that were sown between the general public and the scientific and medical communities around the pandemic. I think there’s some explanation there for why that might be a particular crucible.

Perhaps most disturbingly of all, 60% of the victims of healthcare workplace violence are bedside nurses. There is something about the intensity of the inpatient setting that makes nerves particularly frayed and unfortunately makes patients and family members more likely to lash out. I think it’s actually the heightened sense of mortality.

I’m not excusing any of these behaviors, but maybe it’s akin to road rage. On the road, behind the wheel, tiny gestures can actually be, on some level, perceived as threats to our survival. Another driver swerving into your lane activates a fight-or-flight response, you feel threatened, and you might respond in the moment very rashly. I wonder if we’re not seeing that, quite unfairly, play out against bedside staff in our hospitals.

Here’s the thing. Those of us who practice in the outpatient setting — 95% of my work, for instance, happens in clinic — are not immune to this either. There are some very harrowing recent examples of physicians being killed, typically at gunpoint, often by patients, sometimes by aggrieved family members, in their offices. An orthopedist in Tennessee, a back surgeon in Tulsa, along with three of their colleagues. In the latter case, the assailant specifically blamed the surgeon for their pain.

This is where I think things get even more scary. We have to be the bearers of bad news in our profession. This has long been the task of the oncologist, in particular, to convey things that people don’t want to hear.

I think what brought this to my mind in terms of my reading was an incredible article in The ASCO Post and also in the Journal of Clinical Oncology by Dr. Noelle LoConte, who’s a medical oncologist in Wisconsin. The article is called, “I Want to Kill You,” and it recounts her telling a previously stage III colon cancer patient, with whom she thought she had good rapport, that the disease had recurred. The patient’s immediate reaction in the heat of that moment was to say, Dr LoConte, I want to kill you. I want to blow your face off.

Already, there’s clearly tension when we are telling people what they don’t want to hear. I think the final piece of the puzzle goes back to the intrusion of the business of healthcare on the practice of medicine. This is what I witnessed very recently. One of the things that’s interesting to think about is how what we do is now framed as customer service. I know there’s deriding of this model, but if perception is reality, we have a system where patients are set up to view themselves as consumers.

Let’s say, for instance, you’re in the unfortunate circumstance of being diagnosed with cancer and your insurer gives you the option to go to multiple oncologists. If you’re online browsing for oncologists, how do you differentiate me from some of my colleagues? The answer on these rating websites often has to do with domains that are about the overall experience — not just the patient-doctor interaction but also things like wait time, friendliness of staff, and promptness of care delivery.

That, I think, is the final piece of the puzzle, because what I really risk when I sit down with a patient and lay out a treatment plan is overpromising and underdelivering. I am long used to citing median overall survival for expectation of outcome. Of course, every patient wants to be an exceptional responder. Most patients want to be on the latter half of median survival. No one wants to be on the disappointingly shorter half.

My point is that I’ve long been able to mitigate that uncertainty for patients. What is getting harder and harder to explain away is the delay incurred between someone’s diagnosis, my meeting them and laying out a treatment plan, and their actual initiation of that therapy.

This finally brings me to my recent personal encounter. I have long taken care of a patient, much like Dr LoConte’s, with an extremely calm demeanor. I thought we had a great therapeutic alliance. I had to tell the patient that the disease had recurred, and then I laid out a treatment plan. It took weeks and then months for the insurer to approve this plan despite my providing my note in a timely fashion with a mountain of evidence behind the regimen that I’d selected.

This is where I think insurers — when they deny, deflect, and delay — are not taking adequate responsibility for the impact that has on the therapeutic alliance between a patient and their doctor. These people are trusting us with their lives. As an oncologist, I’ve already told them something they didn’t want to hear, and now I’m compounding that with the uncertainty of when we can actually begin treatment.

This gentleman — who, again, is normally extremely kind and affable — showed up at my office and was incredibly hostile toward me and my staff because of the delay that he was encountering. We literally couldn’t tell him when his insurer was going to approve his treatment, which would have been financially disastrous if he had tried to pay for it himself out of pocket. He needed his insurer’s approval before we could start, but we didn’t know when he could start. That uncertainty and not knowing was gnawing away at him until he was at the end of his rope.

What I’m here to say is that this has been a difficult couple of years in healthcare. I’m well aware that our ER staff are on the front lines, as are our bedside and inpatient teams. Even in the outpatient setting, I think we’re seeing this crucible and we’re seeing the pressure just grow, and grow, and grow. It’s like fracking. The more you increase the pressure, the more eventually you’re going to find out where the cracks are.

These patients are the ultimate stakeholders. It’s their lives on the line, and we should be concerned, but perhaps ultimately not surprised, that they’re lashing out to be heard. Given no other resort, they are taking out their frustration and their aggression on us. It›s not fair, but I am newly aware of it because, in a patient with whom I thought we had a superb rapport, I saw that vanish. As soon as he thought that his life was at risk, his fight-or-flight response kicked in. I was not dealing with the same man I knew. I was dealing with someone who was desperate and who just wanted to know when he could get the treatment.

I think this has taken the likelihood of workplace hostility to a whole other level for those of us in healthcare.

For any patients listening, I beg of you, please don’t shoot the messenger. We are here to serve you the best we can, but there are many external factors at play. We are doing our best to mitigate those for you so we can deliver the care that we promised in as timely a fashion as we can.

I hope everyone out there can stay safe. Thank you.
 

Dr. Lewis is director of gastrointestinal oncology at Intermountain Healthcare in Salt Lake City, Utah. He has an interest in neuroendocrine tumors, hereditary cancer syndromes, and patient-physician communication. He has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.

This transcript has been edited for clarity.

This month, I want to tackle the difficult subject of violence toward healthcare workers. There’s a reason this is top of mind for me in my practice, but I want to start by acknowledging that this has been a much larger issue for our profession and one that has been growing for a number of years now.

The US Bureau of Labor Statistics estimates that medical professionals are fivefold more likely than members of other industries to suffer workplace violence. They also estimate that that rate doubled between 2011 and 2018. I think that range is important because it proves this was a problem, and a crescendoing problem, even before COVID.

Another thing I think is relevant is to look at where in the healthcare system are these attacks most likely. In the emergency room, ER staff have seen hostility toward them rise by at least 25% over the past several years. Some of the seeds of mistrust that were sown between the general public and the scientific and medical communities around the pandemic. I think there’s some explanation there for why that might be a particular crucible.

Perhaps most disturbingly of all, 60% of the victims of healthcare workplace violence are bedside nurses. There is something about the intensity of the inpatient setting that makes nerves particularly frayed and unfortunately makes patients and family members more likely to lash out. I think it’s actually the heightened sense of mortality.

I’m not excusing any of these behaviors, but maybe it’s akin to road rage. On the road, behind the wheel, tiny gestures can actually be, on some level, perceived as threats to our survival. Another driver swerving into your lane activates a fight-or-flight response, you feel threatened, and you might respond in the moment very rashly. I wonder if we’re not seeing that, quite unfairly, play out against bedside staff in our hospitals.

Here’s the thing. Those of us who practice in the outpatient setting — 95% of my work, for instance, happens in clinic — are not immune to this either. There are some very harrowing recent examples of physicians being killed, typically at gunpoint, often by patients, sometimes by aggrieved family members, in their offices. An orthopedist in Tennessee, a back surgeon in Tulsa, along with three of their colleagues. In the latter case, the assailant specifically blamed the surgeon for their pain.

This is where I think things get even more scary. We have to be the bearers of bad news in our profession. This has long been the task of the oncologist, in particular, to convey things that people don’t want to hear.

I think what brought this to my mind in terms of my reading was an incredible article in The ASCO Post and also in the Journal of Clinical Oncology by Dr. Noelle LoConte, who’s a medical oncologist in Wisconsin. The article is called, “I Want to Kill You,” and it recounts her telling a previously stage III colon cancer patient, with whom she thought she had good rapport, that the disease had recurred. The patient’s immediate reaction in the heat of that moment was to say, Dr LoConte, I want to kill you. I want to blow your face off.

Already, there’s clearly tension when we are telling people what they don’t want to hear. I think the final piece of the puzzle goes back to the intrusion of the business of healthcare on the practice of medicine. This is what I witnessed very recently. One of the things that’s interesting to think about is how what we do is now framed as customer service. I know there’s deriding of this model, but if perception is reality, we have a system where patients are set up to view themselves as consumers.

Let’s say, for instance, you’re in the unfortunate circumstance of being diagnosed with cancer and your insurer gives you the option to go to multiple oncologists. If you’re online browsing for oncologists, how do you differentiate me from some of my colleagues? The answer on these rating websites often has to do with domains that are about the overall experience — not just the patient-doctor interaction but also things like wait time, friendliness of staff, and promptness of care delivery.

That, I think, is the final piece of the puzzle, because what I really risk when I sit down with a patient and lay out a treatment plan is overpromising and underdelivering. I am long used to citing median overall survival for expectation of outcome. Of course, every patient wants to be an exceptional responder. Most patients want to be on the latter half of median survival. No one wants to be on the disappointingly shorter half.

My point is that I’ve long been able to mitigate that uncertainty for patients. What is getting harder and harder to explain away is the delay incurred between someone’s diagnosis, my meeting them and laying out a treatment plan, and their actual initiation of that therapy.

This finally brings me to my recent personal encounter. I have long taken care of a patient, much like Dr LoConte’s, with an extremely calm demeanor. I thought we had a great therapeutic alliance. I had to tell the patient that the disease had recurred, and then I laid out a treatment plan. It took weeks and then months for the insurer to approve this plan despite my providing my note in a timely fashion with a mountain of evidence behind the regimen that I’d selected.

This is where I think insurers — when they deny, deflect, and delay — are not taking adequate responsibility for the impact that has on the therapeutic alliance between a patient and their doctor. These people are trusting us with their lives. As an oncologist, I’ve already told them something they didn’t want to hear, and now I’m compounding that with the uncertainty of when we can actually begin treatment.

This gentleman — who, again, is normally extremely kind and affable — showed up at my office and was incredibly hostile toward me and my staff because of the delay that he was encountering. We literally couldn’t tell him when his insurer was going to approve his treatment, which would have been financially disastrous if he had tried to pay for it himself out of pocket. He needed his insurer’s approval before we could start, but we didn’t know when he could start. That uncertainty and not knowing was gnawing away at him until he was at the end of his rope.

What I’m here to say is that this has been a difficult couple of years in healthcare. I’m well aware that our ER staff are on the front lines, as are our bedside and inpatient teams. Even in the outpatient setting, I think we’re seeing this crucible and we’re seeing the pressure just grow, and grow, and grow. It’s like fracking. The more you increase the pressure, the more eventually you’re going to find out where the cracks are.

These patients are the ultimate stakeholders. It’s their lives on the line, and we should be concerned, but perhaps ultimately not surprised, that they’re lashing out to be heard. Given no other resort, they are taking out their frustration and their aggression on us. It›s not fair, but I am newly aware of it because, in a patient with whom I thought we had a superb rapport, I saw that vanish. As soon as he thought that his life was at risk, his fight-or-flight response kicked in. I was not dealing with the same man I knew. I was dealing with someone who was desperate and who just wanted to know when he could get the treatment.

I think this has taken the likelihood of workplace hostility to a whole other level for those of us in healthcare.

For any patients listening, I beg of you, please don’t shoot the messenger. We are here to serve you the best we can, but there are many external factors at play. We are doing our best to mitigate those for you so we can deliver the care that we promised in as timely a fashion as we can.

I hope everyone out there can stay safe. Thank you.
 

Dr. Lewis is director of gastrointestinal oncology at Intermountain Healthcare in Salt Lake City, Utah. He has an interest in neuroendocrine tumors, hereditary cancer syndromes, and patient-physician communication. He has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.

This transcript has been edited for clarity.

I am far from the only doctor, and certainly far from the only oncologist, to recently comment on the topic of Maintenance of Certification. Of course, this is happening in a wider debate about our relationship as subspecialists to the American Board of Internal Medicine, and what they deem acceptable for the recertification of doctors in practice.

My take is that every oncologist is already engaged in lifelong learning. One of the things I tell my patients is that if I practiced exactly the way I was trained to practice — and I had a very good fellowship program with superb faculty – if I practiced the way they taught me, it would now be malpractice. I finished my fellowship in 2012, just over a decade ago. The rate of progress in the interim is simply staggering. It looks so different now than it did then.

For instance, 2011 was my first experience ever using a form of immunotherapy. It was an anti-CTLA4 agent, ipilimumab, and I was treating metastatic melanoma. I learned in that instance just how effective these drugs can be, but also how toxic they can be. Ever since then, I’ve been refining my use of immunotherapy. We do that iteratively. We do that as we encounter patients and as we try to meet their needs.

I do understand that the ABIM is saying they want an independent governing body to legislate that process. I think the reason this is stuck in the craw of so many oncologists is that we demonstrate our commitment to continuing medical education all the time.

I’m recording this in my office, which is separate from the space where I see patients. I see patients in a different group of exam rooms for their privacy and it’s a better setup for aspects of the physical encounter. Not a single patient has ever asked to come into my office and see my diplomas, and I sometimes wonder if I keep them here mostly as a visual cue to myself, sort of an antidote to ward off imposter syndrome and remind myself, Oh yeah – I earned these. I earned these through formal training.

Then something happens once you finish your training, whether it’s residency or fellowship, and you become an attending. I think you feel a weight of responsibility, the responsibility of independent learning. All of us are doing this. We have to do this. The field is moving along at such a rapid clip that it’s essentially built into what we do that we are going to keep up. In fact, channels such as the various aspects of social media are a way I curate my own information feed so I can stay up to speed and not feel like I’m drowning in a deluge of new data.

But what’s hard to demonstrate to the ABIM is that [this learning] is already happening. I think we can do it if we submit our records of CME credits that we formally accrue. The reason this is such an almost insult to oncologists in practice is because it is a necessary part of our day-to-day existence to keep apprised of developments so we can apply them to patient care.

One litmus test of attending a medical conference like the annual meeting of the American Society of Clinical Oncology is to ask oneself, When I go back to clinic, is this meeting going to change the way that I take care of patients? The answer almost invariably these days is yes. I go to multiple meetings per year, and I think it’s the exception, not the rule, that I return home and nothing changes in my management patterns. Again, this process is happening whether the ABIM recognizes it or not.

Lastly, I sat down in the fall of 2022 and I did my recertification. I looked at the span of all the things that had happened between 2012, when I first sat for my board examination in medical oncology, and 2022. It was staggering. I think the reason that it wasn’t such an overwhelming amount of information to review is that I had actually been accreting it slowly and gradually, month by month, year by year throughout that decade.

Again, it’s necessary that the ABIM hear us, hear oncologists, and know that of all the medical subspecialties they govern, it is basically already an essential task of our day-to-day professional existence that we engage in lifelong learning. To suggest otherwise really paints us as outdated. The reason that matters so much is that if we’re not up-to-date, then we are underserving our patients.

Mark A. Lewis, MD, is director of gastrointestinal oncology at Intermountain Healthcare in Salt Lake City. He reported no relevant conflicts of interest.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

This transcript has been edited for clarity.

I am far from the only doctor, and certainly far from the only oncologist, to recently comment on the topic of Maintenance of Certification. Of course, this is happening in a wider debate about our relationship as subspecialists to the American Board of Internal Medicine, and what they deem acceptable for the recertification of doctors in practice.

My take is that every oncologist is already engaged in lifelong learning. One of the things I tell my patients is that if I practiced exactly the way I was trained to practice — and I had a very good fellowship program with superb faculty – if I practiced the way they taught me, it would now be malpractice. I finished my fellowship in 2012, just over a decade ago. The rate of progress in the interim is simply staggering. It looks so different now than it did then.

For instance, 2011 was my first experience ever using a form of immunotherapy. It was an anti-CTLA4 agent, ipilimumab, and I was treating metastatic melanoma. I learned in that instance just how effective these drugs can be, but also how toxic they can be. Ever since then, I’ve been refining my use of immunotherapy. We do that iteratively. We do that as we encounter patients and as we try to meet their needs.

I do understand that the ABIM is saying they want an independent governing body to legislate that process. I think the reason this is stuck in the craw of so many oncologists is that we demonstrate our commitment to continuing medical education all the time.

I’m recording this in my office, which is separate from the space where I see patients. I see patients in a different group of exam rooms for their privacy and it’s a better setup for aspects of the physical encounter. Not a single patient has ever asked to come into my office and see my diplomas, and I sometimes wonder if I keep them here mostly as a visual cue to myself, sort of an antidote to ward off imposter syndrome and remind myself, Oh yeah – I earned these. I earned these through formal training.

Then something happens once you finish your training, whether it’s residency or fellowship, and you become an attending. I think you feel a weight of responsibility, the responsibility of independent learning. All of us are doing this. We have to do this. The field is moving along at such a rapid clip that it’s essentially built into what we do that we are going to keep up. In fact, channels such as the various aspects of social media are a way I curate my own information feed so I can stay up to speed and not feel like I’m drowning in a deluge of new data.

But what’s hard to demonstrate to the ABIM is that [this learning] is already happening. I think we can do it if we submit our records of CME credits that we formally accrue. The reason this is such an almost insult to oncologists in practice is because it is a necessary part of our day-to-day existence to keep apprised of developments so we can apply them to patient care.

One litmus test of attending a medical conference like the annual meeting of the American Society of Clinical Oncology is to ask oneself, When I go back to clinic, is this meeting going to change the way that I take care of patients? The answer almost invariably these days is yes. I go to multiple meetings per year, and I think it’s the exception, not the rule, that I return home and nothing changes in my management patterns. Again, this process is happening whether the ABIM recognizes it or not.

Lastly, I sat down in the fall of 2022 and I did my recertification. I looked at the span of all the things that had happened between 2012, when I first sat for my board examination in medical oncology, and 2022. It was staggering. I think the reason that it wasn’t such an overwhelming amount of information to review is that I had actually been accreting it slowly and gradually, month by month, year by year throughout that decade.

Again, it’s necessary that the ABIM hear us, hear oncologists, and know that of all the medical subspecialties they govern, it is basically already an essential task of our day-to-day professional existence that we engage in lifelong learning. To suggest otherwise really paints us as outdated. The reason that matters so much is that if we’re not up-to-date, then we are underserving our patients.

Mark A. Lewis, MD, is director of gastrointestinal oncology at Intermountain Healthcare in Salt Lake City. He reported no relevant conflicts of interest.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

This transcript has been edited for clarity.

I am far from the only doctor, and certainly far from the only oncologist, to recently comment on the topic of Maintenance of Certification. Of course, this is happening in a wider debate about our relationship as subspecialists to the American Board of Internal Medicine, and what they deem acceptable for the recertification of doctors in practice.

My take is that every oncologist is already engaged in lifelong learning. One of the things I tell my patients is that if I practiced exactly the way I was trained to practice — and I had a very good fellowship program with superb faculty – if I practiced the way they taught me, it would now be malpractice. I finished my fellowship in 2012, just over a decade ago. The rate of progress in the interim is simply staggering. It looks so different now than it did then.

For instance, 2011 was my first experience ever using a form of immunotherapy. It was an anti-CTLA4 agent, ipilimumab, and I was treating metastatic melanoma. I learned in that instance just how effective these drugs can be, but also how toxic they can be. Ever since then, I’ve been refining my use of immunotherapy. We do that iteratively. We do that as we encounter patients and as we try to meet their needs.

I do understand that the ABIM is saying they want an independent governing body to legislate that process. I think the reason this is stuck in the craw of so many oncologists is that we demonstrate our commitment to continuing medical education all the time.

I’m recording this in my office, which is separate from the space where I see patients. I see patients in a different group of exam rooms for their privacy and it’s a better setup for aspects of the physical encounter. Not a single patient has ever asked to come into my office and see my diplomas, and I sometimes wonder if I keep them here mostly as a visual cue to myself, sort of an antidote to ward off imposter syndrome and remind myself, Oh yeah – I earned these. I earned these through formal training.

Then something happens once you finish your training, whether it’s residency or fellowship, and you become an attending. I think you feel a weight of responsibility, the responsibility of independent learning. All of us are doing this. We have to do this. The field is moving along at such a rapid clip that it’s essentially built into what we do that we are going to keep up. In fact, channels such as the various aspects of social media are a way I curate my own information feed so I can stay up to speed and not feel like I’m drowning in a deluge of new data.

But what’s hard to demonstrate to the ABIM is that [this learning] is already happening. I think we can do it if we submit our records of CME credits that we formally accrue. The reason this is such an almost insult to oncologists in practice is because it is a necessary part of our day-to-day existence to keep apprised of developments so we can apply them to patient care.

One litmus test of attending a medical conference like the annual meeting of the American Society of Clinical Oncology is to ask oneself, When I go back to clinic, is this meeting going to change the way that I take care of patients? The answer almost invariably these days is yes. I go to multiple meetings per year, and I think it’s the exception, not the rule, that I return home and nothing changes in my management patterns. Again, this process is happening whether the ABIM recognizes it or not.

Lastly, I sat down in the fall of 2022 and I did my recertification. I looked at the span of all the things that had happened between 2012, when I first sat for my board examination in medical oncology, and 2022. It was staggering. I think the reason that it wasn’t such an overwhelming amount of information to review is that I had actually been accreting it slowly and gradually, month by month, year by year throughout that decade.

Again, it’s necessary that the ABIM hear us, hear oncologists, and know that of all the medical subspecialties they govern, it is basically already an essential task of our day-to-day professional existence that we engage in lifelong learning. To suggest otherwise really paints us as outdated. The reason that matters so much is that if we’re not up-to-date, then we are underserving our patients.

Mark A. Lewis, MD, is director of gastrointestinal oncology at Intermountain Healthcare in Salt Lake City. He reported no relevant conflicts of interest.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.