Saba Fatima, MD

“Times of great calamity and confusion have been productive for the greatest minds. The purest ore is produced from the hottest furnace. The brightest thunderbolt is elicited from the darkest storm.” – Charles Caleb Colton

I walk inside the pediatric unit of our hospital, only to be welcomed by an eerie silence. There are a handful of nurses at the nursing station, faces covered with masks sitting 6 feet apart and quietly working on their computers. The resident work lounge also depicts a similar picture of emptiness. Just over a month ago, these halls were bustling with children, parents, consultants, and a host of ancillary staff. I recall times in which I was running around from one patient room to another talking to families and attending to patient needs. For the past 2 months I have often spent hours alone in my office waiting to see a patient. This is the new norm for many of us.

Across the board in hospitals, pediatric census has dropped since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic. Reasons for these are nonspecific but may include fear among parents of “exposure” to the virus by bringing their sick children to the hospital to get evaluated for other concerns. A few patients that we have seen in our hospital are sicker when they have arrived because their parents avoided seeking medical care earlier, plagued by the same fear. Social distancing and school closure have also limited the amount of infectious diseases going around, which are responsible for a bulk of pediatric admissions.

While many of us are still coming in to see the limited number of patients we have, we are not in the true sense frontline providers during this pandemic. There have been limited cases of COVID-19 in children, most of which – fortunately – present with mild symptoms. Although multisystem inflammatory syndrome in children (MIS-C) is a new disease that COVID-19 has brought us closer to, many of us have yet to see our first case because of its rarity.

I have read through the news daily in the past few months to find many adult provider physicians succumbing to COVID-19 and felt a pang of guilt. My social media is full of heartbreaking stories as adult hospitalists are having difficult conversations with families and supporting them through this unknown territory, often sacrificing their own safety. I feel so proud of them and my profession. My heart tells me, though, I personally may not be living up to the true calling I was expected to have as a physician.

As pediatric hospitalists, while we sit and wait for this pandemic to pass, we have been ruminating on and anxious about our future. As census drops, there is a financial strain that many of us are feeling. Job cuts and furloughing of health care workers in our surroundings leave us with a sense of insecurity and low morale. Many small inpatient pediatric units have had to be shut down temporarily either so they could be used for adult patients or because of lack of pediatric patients. Limiting staffing to avoid exposure and cohorting providers has also been a challenge.

A big question that has risen in these times is how to ensure productivity and stay useful while at the same time being prepared for the unknown that lies ahead. The economics of medicine is staring hard at our years of hard work, questioning the need for our specialty in the first place.

In smaller community settings, the closure of pediatric units has put an additional strain on the overall framework of the community, parents, and referring primary care providers. With the absence of local resources, children who have needed care have had to be transferred to bigger referral centers that are still taking care of pediatric patients. On one end of the spectrum there is concern for pediatric inpatient units not being productive enough for the hospital, but that coexists with a worry that, as we pass through this pandemic, we could see more hospitalizations for vaccine-preventable illnesses, child abuse/medical neglect, and respiratory syncytial virus plus COVID.

The question remains about how best to cope and use this time of uncertainty to be productive and prepare for the worst. A few solutions and suggestions are highlighted below.

• Helping adult providers: Many pediatric hospitalist colleagues in highly affected states have filled the increasing need for clinicians and taken care of adult patients. As pediatric units have closed, providers have continued to offer care where it is needed. Pediatric hospitalists have used this time to take urgent refresher courses in advanced cardiac life support and adult critical care. In states that are not as severely hit, many pediatric hospitalists have utilized this time to plan and prepare protocols for the future as information continues coming in regarding MIS-C and COVID-19 in pediatric patients.
• Use of telemedicine: With the ease in restrictions for use of telemedicine in many states, pediatric hospitalists can consider using it to restructure their staffing model whenever feasible. This can help in cohorting and allowing high risk and quarantined providers to work from home. This model simultaneously provides opportunities for pediatric hospitalists to continue providing their services, while at the same time decreasing financial burden on their institution.
• Reaching out to the community: Engaging with the community during these times can help ensure services and options remain available to our referral providers and patients for pediatric services. Information about COVID-19 can be widely disseminated. We can also play our part by continuing to encourage parents in our maximum capacity to obtain care for their children when needed and to not avoid the hospital because of fears of exposure.
• Supporting each other: There is no doubt that these times are unsettling for the pediatric hospitalist community, and the uncertainty that surrounds us can feel crippling. Strong team building is imperative in these times. While we may not be frequently meeting in work lounges and sharing meals, a good sense of support and camaraderie will go a long way in building morale for the future. Seeking mental health resources if needed is essential for us and should not be looked at with shame or guilt. This is something that many of us have never seen before, and it is okay to ask for help. Seeking help is and always will be a sign of strength.

Today, as I envision myself walking in the hospital on the other side of this pandemic I see a cheerful pediatric unit, smiling faces without masks, my 3-year-old patient cruising around the hallways in a toy car, our therapy dog walking around bringing joy to many, and many healthy patients feeling better and ready to go home. A time when we are not scared to hug each other, shake hands, or share emotion. When our teams are stronger and more well bonded. A time when parents are not scared to bring their sick children to the hospital. Will it be many months before this happens? I don’t know. But I do know that the children I take care of are known for their resilience. I will live up to them today by practicing the same.
 

Dr. Fatima is a pediatric hospitalist at Wesley Children’s Hospital and assistant professor of pediatrics at Kansas University School of Medicine, both in Wichita. Her research interests include medical errors, medical education, and high-value care.

“Times of great calamity and confusion have been productive for the greatest minds. The purest ore is produced from the hottest furnace. The brightest thunderbolt is elicited from the darkest storm.” – Charles Caleb Colton

I walk inside the pediatric unit of our hospital, only to be welcomed by an eerie silence. There are a handful of nurses at the nursing station, faces covered with masks sitting 6 feet apart and quietly working on their computers. The resident work lounge also depicts a similar picture of emptiness. Just over a month ago, these halls were bustling with children, parents, consultants, and a host of ancillary staff. I recall times in which I was running around from one patient room to another talking to families and attending to patient needs. For the past 2 months I have often spent hours alone in my office waiting to see a patient. This is the new norm for many of us.

Across the board in hospitals, pediatric census has dropped since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic. Reasons for these are nonspecific but may include fear among parents of “exposure” to the virus by bringing their sick children to the hospital to get evaluated for other concerns. A few patients that we have seen in our hospital are sicker when they have arrived because their parents avoided seeking medical care earlier, plagued by the same fear. Social distancing and school closure have also limited the amount of infectious diseases going around, which are responsible for a bulk of pediatric admissions.

While many of us are still coming in to see the limited number of patients we have, we are not in the true sense frontline providers during this pandemic. There have been limited cases of COVID-19 in children, most of which – fortunately – present with mild symptoms. Although multisystem inflammatory syndrome in children (MIS-C) is a new disease that COVID-19 has brought us closer to, many of us have yet to see our first case because of its rarity.

I have read through the news daily in the past few months to find many adult provider physicians succumbing to COVID-19 and felt a pang of guilt. My social media is full of heartbreaking stories as adult hospitalists are having difficult conversations with families and supporting them through this unknown territory, often sacrificing their own safety. I feel so proud of them and my profession. My heart tells me, though, I personally may not be living up to the true calling I was expected to have as a physician.

As pediatric hospitalists, while we sit and wait for this pandemic to pass, we have been ruminating on and anxious about our future. As census drops, there is a financial strain that many of us are feeling. Job cuts and furloughing of health care workers in our surroundings leave us with a sense of insecurity and low morale. Many small inpatient pediatric units have had to be shut down temporarily either so they could be used for adult patients or because of lack of pediatric patients. Limiting staffing to avoid exposure and cohorting providers has also been a challenge.

A big question that has risen in these times is how to ensure productivity and stay useful while at the same time being prepared for the unknown that lies ahead. The economics of medicine is staring hard at our years of hard work, questioning the need for our specialty in the first place.

In smaller community settings, the closure of pediatric units has put an additional strain on the overall framework of the community, parents, and referring primary care providers. With the absence of local resources, children who have needed care have had to be transferred to bigger referral centers that are still taking care of pediatric patients. On one end of the spectrum there is concern for pediatric inpatient units not being productive enough for the hospital, but that coexists with a worry that, as we pass through this pandemic, we could see more hospitalizations for vaccine-preventable illnesses, child abuse/medical neglect, and respiratory syncytial virus plus COVID.

The question remains about how best to cope and use this time of uncertainty to be productive and prepare for the worst. A few solutions and suggestions are highlighted below.

• Helping adult providers: Many pediatric hospitalist colleagues in highly affected states have filled the increasing need for clinicians and taken care of adult patients. As pediatric units have closed, providers have continued to offer care where it is needed. Pediatric hospitalists have used this time to take urgent refresher courses in advanced cardiac life support and adult critical care. In states that are not as severely hit, many pediatric hospitalists have utilized this time to plan and prepare protocols for the future as information continues coming in regarding MIS-C and COVID-19 in pediatric patients.
• Use of telemedicine: With the ease in restrictions for use of telemedicine in many states, pediatric hospitalists can consider using it to restructure their staffing model whenever feasible. This can help in cohorting and allowing high risk and quarantined providers to work from home. This model simultaneously provides opportunities for pediatric hospitalists to continue providing their services, while at the same time decreasing financial burden on their institution.
• Reaching out to the community: Engaging with the community during these times can help ensure services and options remain available to our referral providers and patients for pediatric services. Information about COVID-19 can be widely disseminated. We can also play our part by continuing to encourage parents in our maximum capacity to obtain care for their children when needed and to not avoid the hospital because of fears of exposure.
• Supporting each other: There is no doubt that these times are unsettling for the pediatric hospitalist community, and the uncertainty that surrounds us can feel crippling. Strong team building is imperative in these times. While we may not be frequently meeting in work lounges and sharing meals, a good sense of support and camaraderie will go a long way in building morale for the future. Seeking mental health resources if needed is essential for us and should not be looked at with shame or guilt. This is something that many of us have never seen before, and it is okay to ask for help. Seeking help is and always will be a sign of strength.

Today, as I envision myself walking in the hospital on the other side of this pandemic I see a cheerful pediatric unit, smiling faces without masks, my 3-year-old patient cruising around the hallways in a toy car, our therapy dog walking around bringing joy to many, and many healthy patients feeling better and ready to go home. A time when we are not scared to hug each other, shake hands, or share emotion. When our teams are stronger and more well bonded. A time when parents are not scared to bring their sick children to the hospital. Will it be many months before this happens? I don’t know. But I do know that the children I take care of are known for their resilience. I will live up to them today by practicing the same.
 

Dr. Fatima is a pediatric hospitalist at Wesley Children’s Hospital and assistant professor of pediatrics at Kansas University School of Medicine, both in Wichita. Her research interests include medical errors, medical education, and high-value care.

“Times of great calamity and confusion have been productive for the greatest minds. The purest ore is produced from the hottest furnace. The brightest thunderbolt is elicited from the darkest storm.” – Charles Caleb Colton

I walk inside the pediatric unit of our hospital, only to be welcomed by an eerie silence. There are a handful of nurses at the nursing station, faces covered with masks sitting 6 feet apart and quietly working on their computers. The resident work lounge also depicts a similar picture of emptiness. Just over a month ago, these halls were bustling with children, parents, consultants, and a host of ancillary staff. I recall times in which I was running around from one patient room to another talking to families and attending to patient needs. For the past 2 months I have often spent hours alone in my office waiting to see a patient. This is the new norm for many of us.

Across the board in hospitals, pediatric census has dropped since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic. Reasons for these are nonspecific but may include fear among parents of “exposure” to the virus by bringing their sick children to the hospital to get evaluated for other concerns. A few patients that we have seen in our hospital are sicker when they have arrived because their parents avoided seeking medical care earlier, plagued by the same fear. Social distancing and school closure have also limited the amount of infectious diseases going around, which are responsible for a bulk of pediatric admissions.

While many of us are still coming in to see the limited number of patients we have, we are not in the true sense frontline providers during this pandemic. There have been limited cases of COVID-19 in children, most of which – fortunately – present with mild symptoms. Although multisystem inflammatory syndrome in children (MIS-C) is a new disease that COVID-19 has brought us closer to, many of us have yet to see our first case because of its rarity.

I have read through the news daily in the past few months to find many adult provider physicians succumbing to COVID-19 and felt a pang of guilt. My social media is full of heartbreaking stories as adult hospitalists are having difficult conversations with families and supporting them through this unknown territory, often sacrificing their own safety. I feel so proud of them and my profession. My heart tells me, though, I personally may not be living up to the true calling I was expected to have as a physician.

As pediatric hospitalists, while we sit and wait for this pandemic to pass, we have been ruminating on and anxious about our future. As census drops, there is a financial strain that many of us are feeling. Job cuts and furloughing of health care workers in our surroundings leave us with a sense of insecurity and low morale. Many small inpatient pediatric units have had to be shut down temporarily either so they could be used for adult patients or because of lack of pediatric patients. Limiting staffing to avoid exposure and cohorting providers has also been a challenge.

A big question that has risen in these times is how to ensure productivity and stay useful while at the same time being prepared for the unknown that lies ahead. The economics of medicine is staring hard at our years of hard work, questioning the need for our specialty in the first place.

In smaller community settings, the closure of pediatric units has put an additional strain on the overall framework of the community, parents, and referring primary care providers. With the absence of local resources, children who have needed care have had to be transferred to bigger referral centers that are still taking care of pediatric patients. On one end of the spectrum there is concern for pediatric inpatient units not being productive enough for the hospital, but that coexists with a worry that, as we pass through this pandemic, we could see more hospitalizations for vaccine-preventable illnesses, child abuse/medical neglect, and respiratory syncytial virus plus COVID.

The question remains about how best to cope and use this time of uncertainty to be productive and prepare for the worst. A few solutions and suggestions are highlighted below.

• Helping adult providers: Many pediatric hospitalist colleagues in highly affected states have filled the increasing need for clinicians and taken care of adult patients. As pediatric units have closed, providers have continued to offer care where it is needed. Pediatric hospitalists have used this time to take urgent refresher courses in advanced cardiac life support and adult critical care. In states that are not as severely hit, many pediatric hospitalists have utilized this time to plan and prepare protocols for the future as information continues coming in regarding MIS-C and COVID-19 in pediatric patients.
• Use of telemedicine: With the ease in restrictions for use of telemedicine in many states, pediatric hospitalists can consider using it to restructure their staffing model whenever feasible. This can help in cohorting and allowing high risk and quarantined providers to work from home. This model simultaneously provides opportunities for pediatric hospitalists to continue providing their services, while at the same time decreasing financial burden on their institution.
• Reaching out to the community: Engaging with the community during these times can help ensure services and options remain available to our referral providers and patients for pediatric services. Information about COVID-19 can be widely disseminated. We can also play our part by continuing to encourage parents in our maximum capacity to obtain care for their children when needed and to not avoid the hospital because of fears of exposure.
• Supporting each other: There is no doubt that these times are unsettling for the pediatric hospitalist community, and the uncertainty that surrounds us can feel crippling. Strong team building is imperative in these times. While we may not be frequently meeting in work lounges and sharing meals, a good sense of support and camaraderie will go a long way in building morale for the future. Seeking mental health resources if needed is essential for us and should not be looked at with shame or guilt. This is something that many of us have never seen before, and it is okay to ask for help. Seeking help is and always will be a sign of strength.

Today, as I envision myself walking in the hospital on the other side of this pandemic I see a cheerful pediatric unit, smiling faces without masks, my 3-year-old patient cruising around the hallways in a toy car, our therapy dog walking around bringing joy to many, and many healthy patients feeling better and ready to go home. A time when we are not scared to hug each other, shake hands, or share emotion. When our teams are stronger and more well bonded. A time when parents are not scared to bring their sick children to the hospital. Will it be many months before this happens? I don’t know. But I do know that the children I take care of are known for their resilience. I will live up to them today by practicing the same.
 

Dr. Fatima is a pediatric hospitalist at Wesley Children’s Hospital and assistant professor of pediatrics at Kansas University School of Medicine, both in Wichita. Her research interests include medical errors, medical education, and high-value care.

On most days when I walk into the exam room for a well-child visit, I find an anxious mom or a fretful father sitting next to a fearless child. I quickly shove aside my unrealistic expectation of finding both parents together holding the child. During the progression of my day, I see a diversity of parents playing their parts in caring for their children. It is sometimes a single mom, strong and robust, surrounded by a firm aura of principles and rules; she is concealing all signs of weakness, to make sure her child doesn’t cross any line that she has so cautiously made. Sometimes it is a single mom who is nervous and scared with a galaxy of fear in her eyes, desperately seeking for reassurance of her parenting. Fathers also come playing many roles, from someone struggling with tears as his child gets immunizations, to someone who has parenting in his bag, and skillfully plays eeny meeny miny moe with the little ones in the waiting room.

They all have one thing in common: the immense love for their children and the pressure of being a single or separated parent. It is indeed a reality that I see in most of the clinic rooms – that 60%-70% of children are not living with both mom and dad in the same house. Please note that these are raw data based entirely on my observation. While I watch each parent struggling as mentioned above, my mind often wanders to how each young child copes with such a situation.

• “Are you and your child undergoing any sort of stress?”

• “How do you think your child is coping with the separation?”

• “Do you identify any flaws in how things are going now?”

Of course, we need to ask questions about stress and family dynamics of all parents. We also should maintain a high level of sensitivity as we approach such questions. It is important to identify any changes in a child’s emotional and social development as we see them on every visit. And when we deem the need, to intervene and identify resources for the family. We also can help parents with ideas for communication with the child; anger management; helping parents and children understand changes; and encouraging open discussion when possible, instead of bottling up unsaid feelings and emotions. This is especially true for single-parent families, but two-parent families undergo stresses as well, for which pediatricians should keep an eye out.

While it is extremely important for us on every well-child visit to ensure that a child’s physical health is up to par, it is equally important not to ignore their emotional and social well-being as we walk in the room so we can help them flourish into the best version of themselves.

Dr. Fatima is a first-year pediatric resident at Albert Einstein Medical Center, Philadelphia. Email her at [email protected].

On most days when I walk into the exam room for a well-child visit, I find an anxious mom or a fretful father sitting next to a fearless child. I quickly shove aside my unrealistic expectation of finding both parents together holding the child. During the progression of my day, I see a diversity of parents playing their parts in caring for their children. It is sometimes a single mom, strong and robust, surrounded by a firm aura of principles and rules; she is concealing all signs of weakness, to make sure her child doesn’t cross any line that she has so cautiously made. Sometimes it is a single mom who is nervous and scared with a galaxy of fear in her eyes, desperately seeking for reassurance of her parenting. Fathers also come playing many roles, from someone struggling with tears as his child gets immunizations, to someone who has parenting in his bag, and skillfully plays eeny meeny miny moe with the little ones in the waiting room.

They all have one thing in common: the immense love for their children and the pressure of being a single or separated parent. It is indeed a reality that I see in most of the clinic rooms – that 60%-70% of children are not living with both mom and dad in the same house. Please note that these are raw data based entirely on my observation. While I watch each parent struggling as mentioned above, my mind often wanders to how each young child copes with such a situation.

• “Are you and your child undergoing any sort of stress?”

• “How do you think your child is coping with the separation?”

• “Do you identify any flaws in how things are going now?”

Of course, we need to ask questions about stress and family dynamics of all parents. We also should maintain a high level of sensitivity as we approach such questions. It is important to identify any changes in a child’s emotional and social development as we see them on every visit. And when we deem the need, to intervene and identify resources for the family. We also can help parents with ideas for communication with the child; anger management; helping parents and children understand changes; and encouraging open discussion when possible, instead of bottling up unsaid feelings and emotions. This is especially true for single-parent families, but two-parent families undergo stresses as well, for which pediatricians should keep an eye out.

While it is extremely important for us on every well-child visit to ensure that a child’s physical health is up to par, it is equally important not to ignore their emotional and social well-being as we walk in the room so we can help them flourish into the best version of themselves.

Dr. Fatima is a first-year pediatric resident at Albert Einstein Medical Center, Philadelphia. Email her at [email protected].

On most days when I walk into the exam room for a well-child visit, I find an anxious mom or a fretful father sitting next to a fearless child. I quickly shove aside my unrealistic expectation of finding both parents together holding the child. During the progression of my day, I see a diversity of parents playing their parts in caring for their children. It is sometimes a single mom, strong and robust, surrounded by a firm aura of principles and rules; she is concealing all signs of weakness, to make sure her child doesn’t cross any line that she has so cautiously made. Sometimes it is a single mom who is nervous and scared with a galaxy of fear in her eyes, desperately seeking for reassurance of her parenting. Fathers also come playing many roles, from someone struggling with tears as his child gets immunizations, to someone who has parenting in his bag, and skillfully plays eeny meeny miny moe with the little ones in the waiting room.

They all have one thing in common: the immense love for their children and the pressure of being a single or separated parent. It is indeed a reality that I see in most of the clinic rooms – that 60%-70% of children are not living with both mom and dad in the same house. Please note that these are raw data based entirely on my observation. While I watch each parent struggling as mentioned above, my mind often wanders to how each young child copes with such a situation.

• “Are you and your child undergoing any sort of stress?”

• “How do you think your child is coping with the separation?”

• “Do you identify any flaws in how things are going now?”

Of course, we need to ask questions about stress and family dynamics of all parents. We also should maintain a high level of sensitivity as we approach such questions. It is important to identify any changes in a child’s emotional and social development as we see them on every visit. And when we deem the need, to intervene and identify resources for the family. We also can help parents with ideas for communication with the child; anger management; helping parents and children understand changes; and encouraging open discussion when possible, instead of bottling up unsaid feelings and emotions. This is especially true for single-parent families, but two-parent families undergo stresses as well, for which pediatricians should keep an eye out.

While it is extremely important for us on every well-child visit to ensure that a child’s physical health is up to par, it is equally important not to ignore their emotional and social well-being as we walk in the room so we can help them flourish into the best version of themselves.

Dr. Fatima is a first-year pediatric resident at Albert Einstein Medical Center, Philadelphia. Email her at [email protected].