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A tribute to Edward Ross Ritvo, MD, 1930-2020
Reflections on loss amid COVID-19
I sit here on Father’s Day during a global pandemic and can’t help but think of Mark Twain’s quote, “Truth is stranger than fiction.” Isn’t that what calls us to our profession? When friends ask if I have watched a particular movie or TV show, I almost always say no. Why would I? Day after day at “work” I am hearing the most remarkable stories – many unfolding right before my eyes.
My Dad’s story is no less remarkable. As he was a pioneer in our field, I hope you will allow me to share a few recollections.
June 10, just 10 days after turning 90, Dad died peacefully in his home. His obituary, written by James McCracken, MD, says: “He was an internationally known child psychiatrist who, with colleagues, formed the vanguard of UCLA researchers establishing the biomedical basis of autism in the 1960s despite the prevailing psychological theories of the day ... who would later break new ground in identifying the role of genetics, sleep, and neurophysiological differences, perinatal risk factors, and biomarkers relating to autism and autism risk.”
Dad had extensive training in psychoanalysis and worked hard to maintain expertise in both the psychological and biological arenas. While he helped established autism as a neurologic disease and advocated for DSM criteria changes, he continued teaching Psychodynamic Theory of Personality to the UCLA medical students and maintained a clinical practice based in psychotherapeutic techniques. He was practicing biopsychosocial medicine long before the concept was articulated.
He conducted the first epidemiologic survey of autism in the state of Utah. He chose Utah because the Mormons keep perfect genealogical records. He identified multiple families with more than one child affected as well as examining, pre-, peri-, and postnatal factors affecting these families. Being a maverick has its challenges. One paper about parents with mild autism was rejected from publication seven times before a watered-down version of clinical vignettes finally got accepted. In collaboration with his wife, Riva Ariella Ritvo, he developed the Ritvo Autism Asperger Diagnostic Scale–Revised, (RAADS-R) still in use today.
Dad’s career was complicated by medical issues beginning in his 40s when he had a near-fatal heart attack at the top of Mammoth Mountain while skiing. After struggling for 20 years, he ultimately had a heart transplant at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center at 69 years old. Months after the transplant, he was back at work. He was unstoppable and maintained his optimism and great sense of humor throughout this complicated ordeal. He always remembered his commitment to his donor and his new heart, and worked out every day. Living to 90 was against all the odds.
Dad also persevered throughout his youngest son’s 10-year battle with Ewing’s sarcoma. Despite losing Max in 2016, Dad was active in research and clinical practice until the very end. He was doing telepsychiatry with patients in prisons and rehabilitation hospitals the last few years because he was too weak to travel to an office. He continued his research, and his last paper on eye movement responses as a possible biological marker of autism was published in February 2020.
Although Dad did not have COVID-19, the social isolation and stress of the last few months hastened his decline. The last week in the hospital with no visitors was too much for such a social man, and he died days after he was discharged. Always a trailblazer, Dad’s Zoom funeral was watched across the country by his children, grandchildren, extended family, and friends. Choosing to honor his wish to be cautious in this pandemic, we remained sheltering in place.
As Dad was the ultimate professor, I know he would want us to learn from his life and his passing. We are in an accelerated growth phase now as our lives and the lives of our patients are radically altered.
I hope, like Dad, we can choose to feel nourished by our meaningful work as we travel through life’s ups and downs. We must learn new ways to care for ourselves, our families, and our patients during these challenging times. We must find ways to mourn and celebrate those lost during the pandemic.
I know Dad would love synchronicity that I spent Father’s Day writing about him for Clinical Psychiatry News! Thank you for giving me this gift of reflection on this special day.
Dr. Ritvo, a psychiatrist with more than 25 years’ experience, practices in Miami Beach. She is the author of “Bekindr – The Transformative Power of Kindness” (Hellertown, Pa.: Momosa Publishing, 2018) and is the founder of the Bekindr Global Initiative, a movement aimed at cultivating kindness in the world. Dr. Ritvo also is the cofounder of the Bold Beauty Project, a nonprofit group that pairs women with disabilities with photographers who create art exhibitions to raise awareness.
Reflections on loss amid COVID-19
Reflections on loss amid COVID-19
I sit here on Father’s Day during a global pandemic and can’t help but think of Mark Twain’s quote, “Truth is stranger than fiction.” Isn’t that what calls us to our profession? When friends ask if I have watched a particular movie or TV show, I almost always say no. Why would I? Day after day at “work” I am hearing the most remarkable stories – many unfolding right before my eyes.
My Dad’s story is no less remarkable. As he was a pioneer in our field, I hope you will allow me to share a few recollections.
June 10, just 10 days after turning 90, Dad died peacefully in his home. His obituary, written by James McCracken, MD, says: “He was an internationally known child psychiatrist who, with colleagues, formed the vanguard of UCLA researchers establishing the biomedical basis of autism in the 1960s despite the prevailing psychological theories of the day ... who would later break new ground in identifying the role of genetics, sleep, and neurophysiological differences, perinatal risk factors, and biomarkers relating to autism and autism risk.”
Dad had extensive training in psychoanalysis and worked hard to maintain expertise in both the psychological and biological arenas. While he helped established autism as a neurologic disease and advocated for DSM criteria changes, he continued teaching Psychodynamic Theory of Personality to the UCLA medical students and maintained a clinical practice based in psychotherapeutic techniques. He was practicing biopsychosocial medicine long before the concept was articulated.
He conducted the first epidemiologic survey of autism in the state of Utah. He chose Utah because the Mormons keep perfect genealogical records. He identified multiple families with more than one child affected as well as examining, pre-, peri-, and postnatal factors affecting these families. Being a maverick has its challenges. One paper about parents with mild autism was rejected from publication seven times before a watered-down version of clinical vignettes finally got accepted. In collaboration with his wife, Riva Ariella Ritvo, he developed the Ritvo Autism Asperger Diagnostic Scale–Revised, (RAADS-R) still in use today.
Dad’s career was complicated by medical issues beginning in his 40s when he had a near-fatal heart attack at the top of Mammoth Mountain while skiing. After struggling for 20 years, he ultimately had a heart transplant at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center at 69 years old. Months after the transplant, he was back at work. He was unstoppable and maintained his optimism and great sense of humor throughout this complicated ordeal. He always remembered his commitment to his donor and his new heart, and worked out every day. Living to 90 was against all the odds.
Dad also persevered throughout his youngest son’s 10-year battle with Ewing’s sarcoma. Despite losing Max in 2016, Dad was active in research and clinical practice until the very end. He was doing telepsychiatry with patients in prisons and rehabilitation hospitals the last few years because he was too weak to travel to an office. He continued his research, and his last paper on eye movement responses as a possible biological marker of autism was published in February 2020.
Although Dad did not have COVID-19, the social isolation and stress of the last few months hastened his decline. The last week in the hospital with no visitors was too much for such a social man, and he died days after he was discharged. Always a trailblazer, Dad’s Zoom funeral was watched across the country by his children, grandchildren, extended family, and friends. Choosing to honor his wish to be cautious in this pandemic, we remained sheltering in place.
As Dad was the ultimate professor, I know he would want us to learn from his life and his passing. We are in an accelerated growth phase now as our lives and the lives of our patients are radically altered.
I hope, like Dad, we can choose to feel nourished by our meaningful work as we travel through life’s ups and downs. We must learn new ways to care for ourselves, our families, and our patients during these challenging times. We must find ways to mourn and celebrate those lost during the pandemic.
I know Dad would love synchronicity that I spent Father’s Day writing about him for Clinical Psychiatry News! Thank you for giving me this gift of reflection on this special day.
Dr. Ritvo, a psychiatrist with more than 25 years’ experience, practices in Miami Beach. She is the author of “Bekindr – The Transformative Power of Kindness” (Hellertown, Pa.: Momosa Publishing, 2018) and is the founder of the Bekindr Global Initiative, a movement aimed at cultivating kindness in the world. Dr. Ritvo also is the cofounder of the Bold Beauty Project, a nonprofit group that pairs women with disabilities with photographers who create art exhibitions to raise awareness.
I sit here on Father’s Day during a global pandemic and can’t help but think of Mark Twain’s quote, “Truth is stranger than fiction.” Isn’t that what calls us to our profession? When friends ask if I have watched a particular movie or TV show, I almost always say no. Why would I? Day after day at “work” I am hearing the most remarkable stories – many unfolding right before my eyes.
My Dad’s story is no less remarkable. As he was a pioneer in our field, I hope you will allow me to share a few recollections.
June 10, just 10 days after turning 90, Dad died peacefully in his home. His obituary, written by James McCracken, MD, says: “He was an internationally known child psychiatrist who, with colleagues, formed the vanguard of UCLA researchers establishing the biomedical basis of autism in the 1960s despite the prevailing psychological theories of the day ... who would later break new ground in identifying the role of genetics, sleep, and neurophysiological differences, perinatal risk factors, and biomarkers relating to autism and autism risk.”
Dad had extensive training in psychoanalysis and worked hard to maintain expertise in both the psychological and biological arenas. While he helped established autism as a neurologic disease and advocated for DSM criteria changes, he continued teaching Psychodynamic Theory of Personality to the UCLA medical students and maintained a clinical practice based in psychotherapeutic techniques. He was practicing biopsychosocial medicine long before the concept was articulated.
He conducted the first epidemiologic survey of autism in the state of Utah. He chose Utah because the Mormons keep perfect genealogical records. He identified multiple families with more than one child affected as well as examining, pre-, peri-, and postnatal factors affecting these families. Being a maverick has its challenges. One paper about parents with mild autism was rejected from publication seven times before a watered-down version of clinical vignettes finally got accepted. In collaboration with his wife, Riva Ariella Ritvo, he developed the Ritvo Autism Asperger Diagnostic Scale–Revised, (RAADS-R) still in use today.
Dad’s career was complicated by medical issues beginning in his 40s when he had a near-fatal heart attack at the top of Mammoth Mountain while skiing. After struggling for 20 years, he ultimately had a heart transplant at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center at 69 years old. Months after the transplant, he was back at work. He was unstoppable and maintained his optimism and great sense of humor throughout this complicated ordeal. He always remembered his commitment to his donor and his new heart, and worked out every day. Living to 90 was against all the odds.
Dad also persevered throughout his youngest son’s 10-year battle with Ewing’s sarcoma. Despite losing Max in 2016, Dad was active in research and clinical practice until the very end. He was doing telepsychiatry with patients in prisons and rehabilitation hospitals the last few years because he was too weak to travel to an office. He continued his research, and his last paper on eye movement responses as a possible biological marker of autism was published in February 2020.
Although Dad did not have COVID-19, the social isolation and stress of the last few months hastened his decline. The last week in the hospital with no visitors was too much for such a social man, and he died days after he was discharged. Always a trailblazer, Dad’s Zoom funeral was watched across the country by his children, grandchildren, extended family, and friends. Choosing to honor his wish to be cautious in this pandemic, we remained sheltering in place.
As Dad was the ultimate professor, I know he would want us to learn from his life and his passing. We are in an accelerated growth phase now as our lives and the lives of our patients are radically altered.
I hope, like Dad, we can choose to feel nourished by our meaningful work as we travel through life’s ups and downs. We must learn new ways to care for ourselves, our families, and our patients during these challenging times. We must find ways to mourn and celebrate those lost during the pandemic.
I know Dad would love synchronicity that I spent Father’s Day writing about him for Clinical Psychiatry News! Thank you for giving me this gift of reflection on this special day.
Dr. Ritvo, a psychiatrist with more than 25 years’ experience, practices in Miami Beach. She is the author of “Bekindr – The Transformative Power of Kindness” (Hellertown, Pa.: Momosa Publishing, 2018) and is the founder of the Bekindr Global Initiative, a movement aimed at cultivating kindness in the world. Dr. Ritvo also is the cofounder of the Bold Beauty Project, a nonprofit group that pairs women with disabilities with photographers who create art exhibitions to raise awareness.
School daze
A few weeks ago I was asked by the head of our local parks and recreation department for my opinion on whether the town should open its summer recreation camps program. He had been receiving multiple inquiries from parents who in the past had relied on the day camps for day care. The director already had surveyed health care administrators and other providers in the town and his team had crafted a plan based on what guidelines they could glean from state and federal advisory groups. The feedback he had received from town officials and health care representatives was that they felt opening would be a bad decision. One physician observed that there is just “so much we don’t know about the virus at this point.”
I certainly agreed that we still have much to learn about COVID-19, but I told the director that we know enough that I would feel comfortable with opening the day camps, which have traditionally been held outdoors under open-sided tents. If group sizes were kept small, staff personnel were dedicated to just one group, and temperatures were taken at the beginning and at the midpoint of each daily session, I felt that the risk of triggering an outbreak was small. I told him that in my mind the Achilles heel of the plan was whether the camp staff, who are generally high school and college-age young people, could be trusted to follow rigorous social distancing in their off-work hours.
Eventually the decision was made by the traditionally risk-averse town officials to open the camps. I hope that this step forward will spur the process of reopening the schools in the fall by demonstrating that, at least in an open-air environment, some simple common sense measures could create a safe environment for children to congregate in. Unfortunately, the long delay in formulating the plan and a basic hesitancy on the part of some parents has resulted in disappointing enrollment figures so far.
I suspect that many of you have been asked to participate in the planning and decision-making processes for opening the school systems in your community or at least have some thoughts of your own about how best to begin the reopening process.
I suspect you agree that, if the number of new cases detected each day in your state is still rising and/or your state’s ability to test, track, case find, and quarantine is inadequate, reopening schools is probably just asking for trouble. However, a recent study has found that children and young adults under the age of 20 years were almost half as likely to become infected as those over the age of 20 (Nat Med. 2020 Jun 16. doi: 10.1038/s41591-020-0962-9). We already know that, in general, children are presenting with less severe illness. Although the authors observe that we still need to learn more about the transmissibility of subclinical infections, particularly in children, they suggest that “interventions aimed at children might have relatively little impact on reducing SARS-CoV-2 transmission.” It is sounding like reopening schools will place the children at relatively low risk. However, until we know more about transmissibility we have to assume reopening schools may place the community at an increased risk.
If this new information is confirmed by other studies, how would this change the recommendations you would make to the community about reopening its schools? What about masks? We are learning that they make a difference for adults, but is this true for very young children as well? Masks should probably remain part of the hygiene education program as well for at least the foreseeable future.
Do you think your school system can broaden its focus beyond surface cleaning to air handling and ventilation? Here in Maine, keeping the windows open for more than a few weeks a year is going to present problems that may be expensive to remedy.
There are always more questions than answers, but my hope is that here in Maine our apparent success on a state level will allow us to reopen the schools as long as we remain vigilant for the first signs that we need to return to lock down. How do you feel about your community’s situation?
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
A few weeks ago I was asked by the head of our local parks and recreation department for my opinion on whether the town should open its summer recreation camps program. He had been receiving multiple inquiries from parents who in the past had relied on the day camps for day care. The director already had surveyed health care administrators and other providers in the town and his team had crafted a plan based on what guidelines they could glean from state and federal advisory groups. The feedback he had received from town officials and health care representatives was that they felt opening would be a bad decision. One physician observed that there is just “so much we don’t know about the virus at this point.”
I certainly agreed that we still have much to learn about COVID-19, but I told the director that we know enough that I would feel comfortable with opening the day camps, which have traditionally been held outdoors under open-sided tents. If group sizes were kept small, staff personnel were dedicated to just one group, and temperatures were taken at the beginning and at the midpoint of each daily session, I felt that the risk of triggering an outbreak was small. I told him that in my mind the Achilles heel of the plan was whether the camp staff, who are generally high school and college-age young people, could be trusted to follow rigorous social distancing in their off-work hours.
Eventually the decision was made by the traditionally risk-averse town officials to open the camps. I hope that this step forward will spur the process of reopening the schools in the fall by demonstrating that, at least in an open-air environment, some simple common sense measures could create a safe environment for children to congregate in. Unfortunately, the long delay in formulating the plan and a basic hesitancy on the part of some parents has resulted in disappointing enrollment figures so far.
I suspect that many of you have been asked to participate in the planning and decision-making processes for opening the school systems in your community or at least have some thoughts of your own about how best to begin the reopening process.
I suspect you agree that, if the number of new cases detected each day in your state is still rising and/or your state’s ability to test, track, case find, and quarantine is inadequate, reopening schools is probably just asking for trouble. However, a recent study has found that children and young adults under the age of 20 years were almost half as likely to become infected as those over the age of 20 (Nat Med. 2020 Jun 16. doi: 10.1038/s41591-020-0962-9). We already know that, in general, children are presenting with less severe illness. Although the authors observe that we still need to learn more about the transmissibility of subclinical infections, particularly in children, they suggest that “interventions aimed at children might have relatively little impact on reducing SARS-CoV-2 transmission.” It is sounding like reopening schools will place the children at relatively low risk. However, until we know more about transmissibility we have to assume reopening schools may place the community at an increased risk.
If this new information is confirmed by other studies, how would this change the recommendations you would make to the community about reopening its schools? What about masks? We are learning that they make a difference for adults, but is this true for very young children as well? Masks should probably remain part of the hygiene education program as well for at least the foreseeable future.
Do you think your school system can broaden its focus beyond surface cleaning to air handling and ventilation? Here in Maine, keeping the windows open for more than a few weeks a year is going to present problems that may be expensive to remedy.
There are always more questions than answers, but my hope is that here in Maine our apparent success on a state level will allow us to reopen the schools as long as we remain vigilant for the first signs that we need to return to lock down. How do you feel about your community’s situation?
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
A few weeks ago I was asked by the head of our local parks and recreation department for my opinion on whether the town should open its summer recreation camps program. He had been receiving multiple inquiries from parents who in the past had relied on the day camps for day care. The director already had surveyed health care administrators and other providers in the town and his team had crafted a plan based on what guidelines they could glean from state and federal advisory groups. The feedback he had received from town officials and health care representatives was that they felt opening would be a bad decision. One physician observed that there is just “so much we don’t know about the virus at this point.”
I certainly agreed that we still have much to learn about COVID-19, but I told the director that we know enough that I would feel comfortable with opening the day camps, which have traditionally been held outdoors under open-sided tents. If group sizes were kept small, staff personnel were dedicated to just one group, and temperatures were taken at the beginning and at the midpoint of each daily session, I felt that the risk of triggering an outbreak was small. I told him that in my mind the Achilles heel of the plan was whether the camp staff, who are generally high school and college-age young people, could be trusted to follow rigorous social distancing in their off-work hours.
Eventually the decision was made by the traditionally risk-averse town officials to open the camps. I hope that this step forward will spur the process of reopening the schools in the fall by demonstrating that, at least in an open-air environment, some simple common sense measures could create a safe environment for children to congregate in. Unfortunately, the long delay in formulating the plan and a basic hesitancy on the part of some parents has resulted in disappointing enrollment figures so far.
I suspect that many of you have been asked to participate in the planning and decision-making processes for opening the school systems in your community or at least have some thoughts of your own about how best to begin the reopening process.
I suspect you agree that, if the number of new cases detected each day in your state is still rising and/or your state’s ability to test, track, case find, and quarantine is inadequate, reopening schools is probably just asking for trouble. However, a recent study has found that children and young adults under the age of 20 years were almost half as likely to become infected as those over the age of 20 (Nat Med. 2020 Jun 16. doi: 10.1038/s41591-020-0962-9). We already know that, in general, children are presenting with less severe illness. Although the authors observe that we still need to learn more about the transmissibility of subclinical infections, particularly in children, they suggest that “interventions aimed at children might have relatively little impact on reducing SARS-CoV-2 transmission.” It is sounding like reopening schools will place the children at relatively low risk. However, until we know more about transmissibility we have to assume reopening schools may place the community at an increased risk.
If this new information is confirmed by other studies, how would this change the recommendations you would make to the community about reopening its schools? What about masks? We are learning that they make a difference for adults, but is this true for very young children as well? Masks should probably remain part of the hygiene education program as well for at least the foreseeable future.
Do you think your school system can broaden its focus beyond surface cleaning to air handling and ventilation? Here in Maine, keeping the windows open for more than a few weeks a year is going to present problems that may be expensive to remedy.
There are always more questions than answers, but my hope is that here in Maine our apparent success on a state level will allow us to reopen the schools as long as we remain vigilant for the first signs that we need to return to lock down. How do you feel about your community’s situation?
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].
Telehealth and medical liability
The COVID-19 pandemic has led to the rapid uptake of telehealth nationwide in primary care and specialty practices. Over the last few months many practices have actually performed more telehealth visits than traditional in-person visits. The use of telehealth, which had been increasing slowly for the last few years, accelerated rapidly during the pandemic. Long term, telehealth has the potential to increase access to primary care and specialists, and make follow-up easier for many patients, changing how health care is delivered to millions of patients throughout the world.
Since telehealth will be a regular part of our practices from now on, it is important for clinicians to recognize how telehealth visits are viewed in a legal arena.
As is often the case with technological advances, the law needs time to adapt. Will a health care provider treating a patient using telemedicine be held to the same standard of care applicable to an in-person encounter? Stated differently, will consideration be given to the obvious limitations imposed by a telemedicine exam?
Standard of care in medical malpractice cases
The central question in most medical malpractice cases is whether the provider complied with the generally accepted standard of care when evaluating, diagnosing, or treating a patient. This standard typically takes into consideration the provider’s particular specialty as well as all the circumstances surrounding the encounter.1 Medical providers, not state legislators, usually define the standard of care for medical professionals. In malpractice cases, medical experts explain the applicable standard of care to the jury and guide its determination of whether, in the particular case, the standard of care was met. In this way, the law has long recognized that the medical profession itself is best suited to establish the appropriate standards of care under any particular set of circumstances. This standard of care is often referred to as the “reasonable professional under the circumstances” standard of care.
Telemedicine standard of care
Despite the fact that the complex and often nebulous concept of standard of care has been traditionally left to the medical experts to define, state legislators and regulators throughout the nation have chosen to weigh in on this issue in the context of telemedicine. Most states with telemedicine regulations have followed the model policy adopted by the Federation of State Medical Boards in April 2014 which states that “[t]reatment and consultation recommendations made in an online setting … will be held to the same standards of appropriate practice as those in traditional (in-person) settings.”2 States that have adopted this model policy have effectively created a “legal fiction” requiring a jury to ignore the fact that the care was provided virtually by telemedicine technologies and instead assume that the physician treated the patient in person, i.e, applying an “in-person” standard of care. Hawaii appears to be the lone notable exception. Its telemedicine law recognizes that an in-person standard of care should not be applied if there was not a face-to-face visit.3
Proponents of the in-person telemedicine standard claim that it is necessary to ensure patient safety, thus justifying the “legal fiction.” Holding the provider to the in-person standard, it is argued, forces the physician to err on the side of caution and require an actual in-person encounter to ensure the advantages of sight, touch, and sense of things are fully available.4 This discourages the use of telemedicine and deprives the population of its many benefits.
Telemedicine can overcome geographical barriers, increase clinical support, improve health outcomes, reduce health care costs, encourage patient input, reduce travel, and foster continuity of care. The pandemic, which has significantly limited the ability of providers to see patients in person, only underscores the benefits of telemedicine.
The legislatively imposed in-person telemedicine standard of care should be replaced with the “reasonable professional under the circumstances” standard in order to fairly judge physicians’ care and promote overall population health. The “reasonable professional under the circumstances” standard has applied to physicians and other health care professionals outside of telemedicine for decades, and it has served the medical community and public well. It is unfortunate that legislators felt the need to weigh in and define a distinctly different standard of care for telemedicine than for the rest of medicine, as this may present unforeseen obstacles to the use of telemedicine.
The in-person telemedicine standard of care remains a significant barrier for long-term telemedicine. Eliminating this legal fiction has the potential to further expand physicians’ use of telemedicine and fulfill its promise of improving access to care and improving population health.
Mr. Horner (partner), Mr. Milewski (partner), and Mr. Gajer (associate) are attorneys with White and Williams. They specialize in defending health care providers in medical malpractice lawsuits and other health care–related matters. Dr. Skolnik is professor of family and community Medicine at the Sidney Kimmel Medical College, Philadelphia, and associate director of the family medicine residency program at Abington (Pa.) Jefferson Health. Follow Dr. Skolnik, and feel free to submit questions to him on Twitter: @neilskolnik. The authors have no financial conflicts related to the content of this piece.
References
1. Cowan v. Doering, 111 N.J. 451-62,.1988.
2. Model Policy For The Appropriate Use Of Telemedicine Technologies In The Practice Of Medicine. State Medical Boards Appropriate Regulation of Telemedicine. April 2014..
3. Haw. Rev. Stat. Ann. § 453-1.3(c).
4. Kaspar BJ. Iowa Law Review. 2014 Jan;99:839-59.
The COVID-19 pandemic has led to the rapid uptake of telehealth nationwide in primary care and specialty practices. Over the last few months many practices have actually performed more telehealth visits than traditional in-person visits. The use of telehealth, which had been increasing slowly for the last few years, accelerated rapidly during the pandemic. Long term, telehealth has the potential to increase access to primary care and specialists, and make follow-up easier for many patients, changing how health care is delivered to millions of patients throughout the world.
Since telehealth will be a regular part of our practices from now on, it is important for clinicians to recognize how telehealth visits are viewed in a legal arena.
As is often the case with technological advances, the law needs time to adapt. Will a health care provider treating a patient using telemedicine be held to the same standard of care applicable to an in-person encounter? Stated differently, will consideration be given to the obvious limitations imposed by a telemedicine exam?
Standard of care in medical malpractice cases
The central question in most medical malpractice cases is whether the provider complied with the generally accepted standard of care when evaluating, diagnosing, or treating a patient. This standard typically takes into consideration the provider’s particular specialty as well as all the circumstances surrounding the encounter.1 Medical providers, not state legislators, usually define the standard of care for medical professionals. In malpractice cases, medical experts explain the applicable standard of care to the jury and guide its determination of whether, in the particular case, the standard of care was met. In this way, the law has long recognized that the medical profession itself is best suited to establish the appropriate standards of care under any particular set of circumstances. This standard of care is often referred to as the “reasonable professional under the circumstances” standard of care.
Telemedicine standard of care
Despite the fact that the complex and often nebulous concept of standard of care has been traditionally left to the medical experts to define, state legislators and regulators throughout the nation have chosen to weigh in on this issue in the context of telemedicine. Most states with telemedicine regulations have followed the model policy adopted by the Federation of State Medical Boards in April 2014 which states that “[t]reatment and consultation recommendations made in an online setting … will be held to the same standards of appropriate practice as those in traditional (in-person) settings.”2 States that have adopted this model policy have effectively created a “legal fiction” requiring a jury to ignore the fact that the care was provided virtually by telemedicine technologies and instead assume that the physician treated the patient in person, i.e, applying an “in-person” standard of care. Hawaii appears to be the lone notable exception. Its telemedicine law recognizes that an in-person standard of care should not be applied if there was not a face-to-face visit.3
Proponents of the in-person telemedicine standard claim that it is necessary to ensure patient safety, thus justifying the “legal fiction.” Holding the provider to the in-person standard, it is argued, forces the physician to err on the side of caution and require an actual in-person encounter to ensure the advantages of sight, touch, and sense of things are fully available.4 This discourages the use of telemedicine and deprives the population of its many benefits.
Telemedicine can overcome geographical barriers, increase clinical support, improve health outcomes, reduce health care costs, encourage patient input, reduce travel, and foster continuity of care. The pandemic, which has significantly limited the ability of providers to see patients in person, only underscores the benefits of telemedicine.
The legislatively imposed in-person telemedicine standard of care should be replaced with the “reasonable professional under the circumstances” standard in order to fairly judge physicians’ care and promote overall population health. The “reasonable professional under the circumstances” standard has applied to physicians and other health care professionals outside of telemedicine for decades, and it has served the medical community and public well. It is unfortunate that legislators felt the need to weigh in and define a distinctly different standard of care for telemedicine than for the rest of medicine, as this may present unforeseen obstacles to the use of telemedicine.
The in-person telemedicine standard of care remains a significant barrier for long-term telemedicine. Eliminating this legal fiction has the potential to further expand physicians’ use of telemedicine and fulfill its promise of improving access to care and improving population health.
Mr. Horner (partner), Mr. Milewski (partner), and Mr. Gajer (associate) are attorneys with White and Williams. They specialize in defending health care providers in medical malpractice lawsuits and other health care–related matters. Dr. Skolnik is professor of family and community Medicine at the Sidney Kimmel Medical College, Philadelphia, and associate director of the family medicine residency program at Abington (Pa.) Jefferson Health. Follow Dr. Skolnik, and feel free to submit questions to him on Twitter: @neilskolnik. The authors have no financial conflicts related to the content of this piece.
References
1. Cowan v. Doering, 111 N.J. 451-62,.1988.
2. Model Policy For The Appropriate Use Of Telemedicine Technologies In The Practice Of Medicine. State Medical Boards Appropriate Regulation of Telemedicine. April 2014..
3. Haw. Rev. Stat. Ann. § 453-1.3(c).
4. Kaspar BJ. Iowa Law Review. 2014 Jan;99:839-59.
The COVID-19 pandemic has led to the rapid uptake of telehealth nationwide in primary care and specialty practices. Over the last few months many practices have actually performed more telehealth visits than traditional in-person visits. The use of telehealth, which had been increasing slowly for the last few years, accelerated rapidly during the pandemic. Long term, telehealth has the potential to increase access to primary care and specialists, and make follow-up easier for many patients, changing how health care is delivered to millions of patients throughout the world.
Since telehealth will be a regular part of our practices from now on, it is important for clinicians to recognize how telehealth visits are viewed in a legal arena.
As is often the case with technological advances, the law needs time to adapt. Will a health care provider treating a patient using telemedicine be held to the same standard of care applicable to an in-person encounter? Stated differently, will consideration be given to the obvious limitations imposed by a telemedicine exam?
Standard of care in medical malpractice cases
The central question in most medical malpractice cases is whether the provider complied with the generally accepted standard of care when evaluating, diagnosing, or treating a patient. This standard typically takes into consideration the provider’s particular specialty as well as all the circumstances surrounding the encounter.1 Medical providers, not state legislators, usually define the standard of care for medical professionals. In malpractice cases, medical experts explain the applicable standard of care to the jury and guide its determination of whether, in the particular case, the standard of care was met. In this way, the law has long recognized that the medical profession itself is best suited to establish the appropriate standards of care under any particular set of circumstances. This standard of care is often referred to as the “reasonable professional under the circumstances” standard of care.
Telemedicine standard of care
Despite the fact that the complex and often nebulous concept of standard of care has been traditionally left to the medical experts to define, state legislators and regulators throughout the nation have chosen to weigh in on this issue in the context of telemedicine. Most states with telemedicine regulations have followed the model policy adopted by the Federation of State Medical Boards in April 2014 which states that “[t]reatment and consultation recommendations made in an online setting … will be held to the same standards of appropriate practice as those in traditional (in-person) settings.”2 States that have adopted this model policy have effectively created a “legal fiction” requiring a jury to ignore the fact that the care was provided virtually by telemedicine technologies and instead assume that the physician treated the patient in person, i.e, applying an “in-person” standard of care. Hawaii appears to be the lone notable exception. Its telemedicine law recognizes that an in-person standard of care should not be applied if there was not a face-to-face visit.3
Proponents of the in-person telemedicine standard claim that it is necessary to ensure patient safety, thus justifying the “legal fiction.” Holding the provider to the in-person standard, it is argued, forces the physician to err on the side of caution and require an actual in-person encounter to ensure the advantages of sight, touch, and sense of things are fully available.4 This discourages the use of telemedicine and deprives the population of its many benefits.
Telemedicine can overcome geographical barriers, increase clinical support, improve health outcomes, reduce health care costs, encourage patient input, reduce travel, and foster continuity of care. The pandemic, which has significantly limited the ability of providers to see patients in person, only underscores the benefits of telemedicine.
The legislatively imposed in-person telemedicine standard of care should be replaced with the “reasonable professional under the circumstances” standard in order to fairly judge physicians’ care and promote overall population health. The “reasonable professional under the circumstances” standard has applied to physicians and other health care professionals outside of telemedicine for decades, and it has served the medical community and public well. It is unfortunate that legislators felt the need to weigh in and define a distinctly different standard of care for telemedicine than for the rest of medicine, as this may present unforeseen obstacles to the use of telemedicine.
The in-person telemedicine standard of care remains a significant barrier for long-term telemedicine. Eliminating this legal fiction has the potential to further expand physicians’ use of telemedicine and fulfill its promise of improving access to care and improving population health.
Mr. Horner (partner), Mr. Milewski (partner), and Mr. Gajer (associate) are attorneys with White and Williams. They specialize in defending health care providers in medical malpractice lawsuits and other health care–related matters. Dr. Skolnik is professor of family and community Medicine at the Sidney Kimmel Medical College, Philadelphia, and associate director of the family medicine residency program at Abington (Pa.) Jefferson Health. Follow Dr. Skolnik, and feel free to submit questions to him on Twitter: @neilskolnik. The authors have no financial conflicts related to the content of this piece.
References
1. Cowan v. Doering, 111 N.J. 451-62,.1988.
2. Model Policy For The Appropriate Use Of Telemedicine Technologies In The Practice Of Medicine. State Medical Boards Appropriate Regulation of Telemedicine. April 2014..
3. Haw. Rev. Stat. Ann. § 453-1.3(c).
4. Kaspar BJ. Iowa Law Review. 2014 Jan;99:839-59.
Guidance on infection prevention for health care personnel
As we reopen our offices we are faced with the challenge of determining the best way to do it safely – protecting ourselves, our staff, and our patients.
In this column we will focus on selected details of the recommendations from IDSA and the CDC that may be helpful in primary care offices.
Face masks
Many clinicians have asked whether a physician should use a mask while seeing patients without COVID-19 in the office, and if yes, which type. The IDSA guideline states that mask usage is imperative for reducing the risk of health care workers contracting COVID-19.1 The evidence is derived from a number of sources, including a retrospective study from Wuhan (China) University that examined two groups of health care workers during the outbreak. The first group wore N95 masks and washed their hands frequently, while the second group did not wear masks and washed their hands less frequently. In the group that took greater actions to protect themselves, none of the 493 staff members contracted COVID-19, compared with 10 of 213 staff members in the other group. The decrease in infection rate occurred in the group that wore masks despite the fact that this group had 733% more exposure to COVID-19 patients.2 Further evidence came from a case-control study done in hospitals in Hong Kong during the 2003 SARS-CoV outbreak.3 This study showed that mask wearing was the most significant intervention for reducing infection, followed by gowning, and then handwashing. These findings make it clear that mask usage is a must for all health care providers who may be caring for patients who could have COVID-19.
The guideline also reviews evidence about the use of surgical masks versus N95 masks. On reviewing indirect evidence from the SARS-CoV epidemic, IDSA found that wearing any mask – surgical or N95 – led to a large reduction in the risk of developing an infection. In this systematic review of five observational studies in health care personnel, for those wearing surgical masks, the odds ratio for developing an infection was 0.13 (95% CI, 0.03-0.62), and for those wearing N95 masks, the odds ratio was 0.12 (95% CI, 0.06-0.26). There was not a significant difference between risk reductions for those who wore surgical masks and N95 masks, respectively.1,4 The IDSA guideline panel recommended “that health care personnel caring for patients with suspected or known COVID-19 use either a surgical mask or N95 respirator ... as part of appropriate PPE.” Since there is not a significant difference in outcomes between those who use surgical masks and those who use N95 respirators, and the IDSA guideline states either type of mask is considered appropriate when taking care of patients with suspected or known COVID-19, in our opinion, use of surgical masks rather than N95s is sufficient when performing low-risk activities. Such activities include seeing patients who do not have a high likelihood of COVID-19 in the office setting.
The IDSA recommendation also discusses universal masking, defined as both patients and clinicians wearing masks. The recommendation is supported by the findings of a study in which universal mask usage was used to prevent the spread of H1N 1 during the 2009 outbreak. In this study of staff members and patients exposed to H1N1 who all wore masks, only 0.48% of 836 acquired infection. In the same study, not wearing a mask by either the provider or patient increased the risk of infection.5 Also, in a prospective study of hematopoietic stem cell transplant patients, universal masking caused infection rates to drop from 10.3% to 4.4%.6
The IDSA guideline states the following: “There may be some, albeit uncertain, benefit to universal masking in the absence of resource constraints. However, the benefits of universal masking with surgical masks should be weighed against the risk of increasing the PPE burn rate and contextualized to the background COVID-19 prevalence rate for asymptomatic or minimally symptomatic HCPs [health care providers] and visitors.”1
The CDC’s guidance statement says the following: “Continued community transmission has increased the number of individuals potentially exposed to and infectious with SARS-CoV-2. Fever and symptom screening have proven to be relatively ineffective in identifying all infected individuals, including HCPs. Symptom screening also will not identify individuals who are infected but otherwise asymptomatic or pre-symptomatic; additional interventions are needed to limit the unrecognized introduction of SARS-CoV-2 into healthcare settings by these individuals. As part of aggressive source control measures, healthcare facilities should consider implementing policies requiring everyone entering the facility to wear a cloth face covering (if tolerated) while in the building, regardless of symptoms.”7
It is our opinion, based on the CDC and IDSA recommendations, that both clinicians and patients should be required to wear masks when patients are seen in the office if possible. Many offices have instituted a policy that says, if a patient refuses to wear a mask during an office visit, then the patient will not be seen.
Eye protection
Many clinicians are uncertain about whether eye protection needs to be used when seeing asymptomatic patients. The IDSA acknowledges that there are not studies that have looked critically at eye protection, but the society also acknowledges “appropriate personal protective equipment includes, in addition to a mask or respirator, eye protection, gown and gloves.”1 In addition, the CDC recommends that, for healthcare workers located in areas with moderate or higher prevalence of COVID-19, HCPs should wear eye protection in addition to facemasks since they may encounter asymptomatic individuals with COVID-19.
Gowns and gloves
Gowns and gloves are recommended as a part of personal protective gear when caring for patients who have COVID-19. The IDSA guideline is clear in its recommendations, but does not cite evidence for having no gloves versus having gloves. Furthermore, they state that the evidence is insufficient to recommend double gloves, with the top glove used to take off a personal protective gown, and the inner glove discarded after the gown is removed. The CDC do not make recommendations for routine use of gloves in the care of patients who do not have COVID-19, even in areas where there may be asymptomatic COVID-19, and recommends standard precautions, specifically practicing hand hygiene before and after patient contact.8
The Bottom Line
When seeing patients with COVID-19, N-95 masks, goggles or face shields, gowns, and gloves should be used, with hand hygiene routinely practiced before and after seeing patients. For offices seeing patients not suspected of having COVID-19, the IDSA guideline clarifies that there is not a statistical difference in acquisition of infection with the use of surgical face masks vs N95 respirators. According to the CDC recommendations, eye protection in addition to facemasks should be used by the health care provider, and masks should be worn by patients. Hand hygiene should be used routinely before and after all patient contact. With use of these approaches, it should be safe for offices to reopen and see patients.
Neil Skolnik, MD, is professor of family and community medicine at the Thomas Jefferson University, Philadelphia, and associate director of the Family Medicine Residency Program at Abington (Pa.) Jefferson Health. Jeffrey Matthews, DO, is a second-year resident in the Family Medicine Residency at Abington Jefferson Health. For questions or comments, feel free to contact Dr. Skolnik on Twitter @NeilSkolnik.
References
1. Lynch JB, Davitkov P, Anderson DJ, et al. COVID-19 Guideline, Part 2: Infection Prevention. IDSA Home. https://www.idsociety.org/practice-guideline/covid-19-guideline-infection-prevention/. April 27, 2020. Accessed June 10, 2020.
2. J Hosp Infect. 2020 May;105(1):104-5.
3. Lancet. 2003;361(9368):1519-20.
4. Influenza Other Respir Viruses. 2020 Apr 4. doi: 2020;10.1111/irv.12745.
5. J Hosp Infect. 2010;74(3):271-7.
6. Clin Infect Dis. 2016;63(8):999-1006.
7. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Interim Infection Prevention and Control Recommendations for Patients with Suspected or Confirmed Coronavirus Disease 2019 (COVID-19) in Healthcare Settings. https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/2019-ncov/hcp/infection-control-recommendations.html. Accessed Jun 16, 2020.
8. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Healthcare Infection Prevention and Control FAQs for COVID-19. https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/2019-ncov/hcp/infection-control-faq.html. Accessed June 15, 2020.
As we reopen our offices we are faced with the challenge of determining the best way to do it safely – protecting ourselves, our staff, and our patients.
In this column we will focus on selected details of the recommendations from IDSA and the CDC that may be helpful in primary care offices.
Face masks
Many clinicians have asked whether a physician should use a mask while seeing patients without COVID-19 in the office, and if yes, which type. The IDSA guideline states that mask usage is imperative for reducing the risk of health care workers contracting COVID-19.1 The evidence is derived from a number of sources, including a retrospective study from Wuhan (China) University that examined two groups of health care workers during the outbreak. The first group wore N95 masks and washed their hands frequently, while the second group did not wear masks and washed their hands less frequently. In the group that took greater actions to protect themselves, none of the 493 staff members contracted COVID-19, compared with 10 of 213 staff members in the other group. The decrease in infection rate occurred in the group that wore masks despite the fact that this group had 733% more exposure to COVID-19 patients.2 Further evidence came from a case-control study done in hospitals in Hong Kong during the 2003 SARS-CoV outbreak.3 This study showed that mask wearing was the most significant intervention for reducing infection, followed by gowning, and then handwashing. These findings make it clear that mask usage is a must for all health care providers who may be caring for patients who could have COVID-19.
The guideline also reviews evidence about the use of surgical masks versus N95 masks. On reviewing indirect evidence from the SARS-CoV epidemic, IDSA found that wearing any mask – surgical or N95 – led to a large reduction in the risk of developing an infection. In this systematic review of five observational studies in health care personnel, for those wearing surgical masks, the odds ratio for developing an infection was 0.13 (95% CI, 0.03-0.62), and for those wearing N95 masks, the odds ratio was 0.12 (95% CI, 0.06-0.26). There was not a significant difference between risk reductions for those who wore surgical masks and N95 masks, respectively.1,4 The IDSA guideline panel recommended “that health care personnel caring for patients with suspected or known COVID-19 use either a surgical mask or N95 respirator ... as part of appropriate PPE.” Since there is not a significant difference in outcomes between those who use surgical masks and those who use N95 respirators, and the IDSA guideline states either type of mask is considered appropriate when taking care of patients with suspected or known COVID-19, in our opinion, use of surgical masks rather than N95s is sufficient when performing low-risk activities. Such activities include seeing patients who do not have a high likelihood of COVID-19 in the office setting.
The IDSA recommendation also discusses universal masking, defined as both patients and clinicians wearing masks. The recommendation is supported by the findings of a study in which universal mask usage was used to prevent the spread of H1N 1 during the 2009 outbreak. In this study of staff members and patients exposed to H1N1 who all wore masks, only 0.48% of 836 acquired infection. In the same study, not wearing a mask by either the provider or patient increased the risk of infection.5 Also, in a prospective study of hematopoietic stem cell transplant patients, universal masking caused infection rates to drop from 10.3% to 4.4%.6
The IDSA guideline states the following: “There may be some, albeit uncertain, benefit to universal masking in the absence of resource constraints. However, the benefits of universal masking with surgical masks should be weighed against the risk of increasing the PPE burn rate and contextualized to the background COVID-19 prevalence rate for asymptomatic or minimally symptomatic HCPs [health care providers] and visitors.”1
The CDC’s guidance statement says the following: “Continued community transmission has increased the number of individuals potentially exposed to and infectious with SARS-CoV-2. Fever and symptom screening have proven to be relatively ineffective in identifying all infected individuals, including HCPs. Symptom screening also will not identify individuals who are infected but otherwise asymptomatic or pre-symptomatic; additional interventions are needed to limit the unrecognized introduction of SARS-CoV-2 into healthcare settings by these individuals. As part of aggressive source control measures, healthcare facilities should consider implementing policies requiring everyone entering the facility to wear a cloth face covering (if tolerated) while in the building, regardless of symptoms.”7
It is our opinion, based on the CDC and IDSA recommendations, that both clinicians and patients should be required to wear masks when patients are seen in the office if possible. Many offices have instituted a policy that says, if a patient refuses to wear a mask during an office visit, then the patient will not be seen.
Eye protection
Many clinicians are uncertain about whether eye protection needs to be used when seeing asymptomatic patients. The IDSA acknowledges that there are not studies that have looked critically at eye protection, but the society also acknowledges “appropriate personal protective equipment includes, in addition to a mask or respirator, eye protection, gown and gloves.”1 In addition, the CDC recommends that, for healthcare workers located in areas with moderate or higher prevalence of COVID-19, HCPs should wear eye protection in addition to facemasks since they may encounter asymptomatic individuals with COVID-19.
Gowns and gloves
Gowns and gloves are recommended as a part of personal protective gear when caring for patients who have COVID-19. The IDSA guideline is clear in its recommendations, but does not cite evidence for having no gloves versus having gloves. Furthermore, they state that the evidence is insufficient to recommend double gloves, with the top glove used to take off a personal protective gown, and the inner glove discarded after the gown is removed. The CDC do not make recommendations for routine use of gloves in the care of patients who do not have COVID-19, even in areas where there may be asymptomatic COVID-19, and recommends standard precautions, specifically practicing hand hygiene before and after patient contact.8
The Bottom Line
When seeing patients with COVID-19, N-95 masks, goggles or face shields, gowns, and gloves should be used, with hand hygiene routinely practiced before and after seeing patients. For offices seeing patients not suspected of having COVID-19, the IDSA guideline clarifies that there is not a statistical difference in acquisition of infection with the use of surgical face masks vs N95 respirators. According to the CDC recommendations, eye protection in addition to facemasks should be used by the health care provider, and masks should be worn by patients. Hand hygiene should be used routinely before and after all patient contact. With use of these approaches, it should be safe for offices to reopen and see patients.
Neil Skolnik, MD, is professor of family and community medicine at the Thomas Jefferson University, Philadelphia, and associate director of the Family Medicine Residency Program at Abington (Pa.) Jefferson Health. Jeffrey Matthews, DO, is a second-year resident in the Family Medicine Residency at Abington Jefferson Health. For questions or comments, feel free to contact Dr. Skolnik on Twitter @NeilSkolnik.
References
1. Lynch JB, Davitkov P, Anderson DJ, et al. COVID-19 Guideline, Part 2: Infection Prevention. IDSA Home. https://www.idsociety.org/practice-guideline/covid-19-guideline-infection-prevention/. April 27, 2020. Accessed June 10, 2020.
2. J Hosp Infect. 2020 May;105(1):104-5.
3. Lancet. 2003;361(9368):1519-20.
4. Influenza Other Respir Viruses. 2020 Apr 4. doi: 2020;10.1111/irv.12745.
5. J Hosp Infect. 2010;74(3):271-7.
6. Clin Infect Dis. 2016;63(8):999-1006.
7. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Interim Infection Prevention and Control Recommendations for Patients with Suspected or Confirmed Coronavirus Disease 2019 (COVID-19) in Healthcare Settings. https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/2019-ncov/hcp/infection-control-recommendations.html. Accessed Jun 16, 2020.
8. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Healthcare Infection Prevention and Control FAQs for COVID-19. https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/2019-ncov/hcp/infection-control-faq.html. Accessed June 15, 2020.
As we reopen our offices we are faced with the challenge of determining the best way to do it safely – protecting ourselves, our staff, and our patients.
In this column we will focus on selected details of the recommendations from IDSA and the CDC that may be helpful in primary care offices.
Face masks
Many clinicians have asked whether a physician should use a mask while seeing patients without COVID-19 in the office, and if yes, which type. The IDSA guideline states that mask usage is imperative for reducing the risk of health care workers contracting COVID-19.1 The evidence is derived from a number of sources, including a retrospective study from Wuhan (China) University that examined two groups of health care workers during the outbreak. The first group wore N95 masks and washed their hands frequently, while the second group did not wear masks and washed their hands less frequently. In the group that took greater actions to protect themselves, none of the 493 staff members contracted COVID-19, compared with 10 of 213 staff members in the other group. The decrease in infection rate occurred in the group that wore masks despite the fact that this group had 733% more exposure to COVID-19 patients.2 Further evidence came from a case-control study done in hospitals in Hong Kong during the 2003 SARS-CoV outbreak.3 This study showed that mask wearing was the most significant intervention for reducing infection, followed by gowning, and then handwashing. These findings make it clear that mask usage is a must for all health care providers who may be caring for patients who could have COVID-19.
The guideline also reviews evidence about the use of surgical masks versus N95 masks. On reviewing indirect evidence from the SARS-CoV epidemic, IDSA found that wearing any mask – surgical or N95 – led to a large reduction in the risk of developing an infection. In this systematic review of five observational studies in health care personnel, for those wearing surgical masks, the odds ratio for developing an infection was 0.13 (95% CI, 0.03-0.62), and for those wearing N95 masks, the odds ratio was 0.12 (95% CI, 0.06-0.26). There was not a significant difference between risk reductions for those who wore surgical masks and N95 masks, respectively.1,4 The IDSA guideline panel recommended “that health care personnel caring for patients with suspected or known COVID-19 use either a surgical mask or N95 respirator ... as part of appropriate PPE.” Since there is not a significant difference in outcomes between those who use surgical masks and those who use N95 respirators, and the IDSA guideline states either type of mask is considered appropriate when taking care of patients with suspected or known COVID-19, in our opinion, use of surgical masks rather than N95s is sufficient when performing low-risk activities. Such activities include seeing patients who do not have a high likelihood of COVID-19 in the office setting.
The IDSA recommendation also discusses universal masking, defined as both patients and clinicians wearing masks. The recommendation is supported by the findings of a study in which universal mask usage was used to prevent the spread of H1N 1 during the 2009 outbreak. In this study of staff members and patients exposed to H1N1 who all wore masks, only 0.48% of 836 acquired infection. In the same study, not wearing a mask by either the provider or patient increased the risk of infection.5 Also, in a prospective study of hematopoietic stem cell transplant patients, universal masking caused infection rates to drop from 10.3% to 4.4%.6
The IDSA guideline states the following: “There may be some, albeit uncertain, benefit to universal masking in the absence of resource constraints. However, the benefits of universal masking with surgical masks should be weighed against the risk of increasing the PPE burn rate and contextualized to the background COVID-19 prevalence rate for asymptomatic or minimally symptomatic HCPs [health care providers] and visitors.”1
The CDC’s guidance statement says the following: “Continued community transmission has increased the number of individuals potentially exposed to and infectious with SARS-CoV-2. Fever and symptom screening have proven to be relatively ineffective in identifying all infected individuals, including HCPs. Symptom screening also will not identify individuals who are infected but otherwise asymptomatic or pre-symptomatic; additional interventions are needed to limit the unrecognized introduction of SARS-CoV-2 into healthcare settings by these individuals. As part of aggressive source control measures, healthcare facilities should consider implementing policies requiring everyone entering the facility to wear a cloth face covering (if tolerated) while in the building, regardless of symptoms.”7
It is our opinion, based on the CDC and IDSA recommendations, that both clinicians and patients should be required to wear masks when patients are seen in the office if possible. Many offices have instituted a policy that says, if a patient refuses to wear a mask during an office visit, then the patient will not be seen.
Eye protection
Many clinicians are uncertain about whether eye protection needs to be used when seeing asymptomatic patients. The IDSA acknowledges that there are not studies that have looked critically at eye protection, but the society also acknowledges “appropriate personal protective equipment includes, in addition to a mask or respirator, eye protection, gown and gloves.”1 In addition, the CDC recommends that, for healthcare workers located in areas with moderate or higher prevalence of COVID-19, HCPs should wear eye protection in addition to facemasks since they may encounter asymptomatic individuals with COVID-19.
Gowns and gloves
Gowns and gloves are recommended as a part of personal protective gear when caring for patients who have COVID-19. The IDSA guideline is clear in its recommendations, but does not cite evidence for having no gloves versus having gloves. Furthermore, they state that the evidence is insufficient to recommend double gloves, with the top glove used to take off a personal protective gown, and the inner glove discarded after the gown is removed. The CDC do not make recommendations for routine use of gloves in the care of patients who do not have COVID-19, even in areas where there may be asymptomatic COVID-19, and recommends standard precautions, specifically practicing hand hygiene before and after patient contact.8
The Bottom Line
When seeing patients with COVID-19, N-95 masks, goggles or face shields, gowns, and gloves should be used, with hand hygiene routinely practiced before and after seeing patients. For offices seeing patients not suspected of having COVID-19, the IDSA guideline clarifies that there is not a statistical difference in acquisition of infection with the use of surgical face masks vs N95 respirators. According to the CDC recommendations, eye protection in addition to facemasks should be used by the health care provider, and masks should be worn by patients. Hand hygiene should be used routinely before and after all patient contact. With use of these approaches, it should be safe for offices to reopen and see patients.
Neil Skolnik, MD, is professor of family and community medicine at the Thomas Jefferson University, Philadelphia, and associate director of the Family Medicine Residency Program at Abington (Pa.) Jefferson Health. Jeffrey Matthews, DO, is a second-year resident in the Family Medicine Residency at Abington Jefferson Health. For questions or comments, feel free to contact Dr. Skolnik on Twitter @NeilSkolnik.
References
1. Lynch JB, Davitkov P, Anderson DJ, et al. COVID-19 Guideline, Part 2: Infection Prevention. IDSA Home. https://www.idsociety.org/practice-guideline/covid-19-guideline-infection-prevention/. April 27, 2020. Accessed June 10, 2020.
2. J Hosp Infect. 2020 May;105(1):104-5.
3. Lancet. 2003;361(9368):1519-20.
4. Influenza Other Respir Viruses. 2020 Apr 4. doi: 2020;10.1111/irv.12745.
5. J Hosp Infect. 2010;74(3):271-7.
6. Clin Infect Dis. 2016;63(8):999-1006.
7. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Interim Infection Prevention and Control Recommendations for Patients with Suspected or Confirmed Coronavirus Disease 2019 (COVID-19) in Healthcare Settings. https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/2019-ncov/hcp/infection-control-recommendations.html. Accessed Jun 16, 2020.
8. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Healthcare Infection Prevention and Control FAQs for COVID-19. https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/2019-ncov/hcp/infection-control-faq.html. Accessed June 15, 2020.
Management of race in psychotherapy and supervision
On the Friday evening after the public execution of George Floyd, we were painfully reminded of the urgency to address the inadequate management of race, racism, and anti-blackness in medical education, residency training, and postgraduate continuing medical education.
The reminder did not originate from the rioting that was occurring in some cities, though we could feel the ground shifting beneath our feet as civic protests that began in U.S. cities spread around the globe. Instead, it occurred during a webinar we were hosting for psychiatry residents focused on techniques for eliminating blind spots in the management of race in clinical psychotherapy supervision. (Dr. Jessica Isom chaired the webinar, Dr. Flavia DeSouza and Dr. Myra Mathis comoderated, and Dr. Ebony Dennis and Dr. Constance E. Dunlap served as discussants.)
Our panel had presented an ambitious agenda that included reviewing how the disavowal of bias, race, racism, and anti-blackness contributes to ineffective psychotherapy, undermines the quality of medical care, and perpetuates mental health disparities. We spent some time exploring how unacknowledged and unexamined conscious and unconscious racial stereotypes affect interpersonal relationships, the psychotherapeutic process, and the supervisory experience. Our presentation included a clinical vignette demonstrating how racism, colorism, and anti-blackness have global impact, influencing the self-esteem, identity formation, and identity consolidation of immigrants as they grapple with the unique form of racism that exists in America. Other clinical vignettes demonstrated blind spots that were retroactively identified though omitted in supervisory discussions. We also discussed alternative interventions and interpretations of the material presented.1-5
Because 21st-century trainees are generally psychologically astute and committed to social justice, we did two things. First, before the webinar, we provided them access to a prerecorded explanation of object relations theorist Melanie Klein’s paranoid-schizoid and depressive positions concepts, which were applied to theoretically explain the development of race, specifically the defenses used by early colonists that contributed to the development of “whiteness” and “blackness” as social constructs, and their influence on the development of the U.S. psyche. For example, as early colonists attempted to develop new and improved identities distinct from those they had in their homelands, they used enslaved black people (and other vulnerable groups) to “other.” What we mean here by othering is the process of using an other to project one’s badness into in order to relieve the self of uncomfortable aspects and feelings originating within the self. If this other accepts the projection (which is often the case with vulnerable parties), the self recognizes, that is, identifies (locates) the bad they just projected in the other, who is now experienced as a bad-other. This is projection in action. If the other accepts the projection and behaves accordingly, for example, in a manner that reflects badness, this becomes projective identification. Conversely, if the other does not accept these projections, the self (who projects) is left to cope with aspects of the self s/he might not have the capacity to manage. By capacity, we are speaking of the Bionian idea of the ability to experience an extreme emotion while also being able to think. Without the ego strength to cope with bad aspects of the self, the ego either collapses (and is unable to think) or further projection is attempted.6-8
We have seen this latter dynamic play out repeatedly when police officers fatally shoot black citizens and then claim that they feared for their lives; these same officers have been exonerated by juries by continuing to portray the deceased victims as threatening, dangerous objects not worthy of living. We are also seeing a global movement of black and nonblack people who are in touch with a justified rage that has motivated them to return these projections by collectively protesting, and in some cases, by rioting.
Back to the webinar
In anticipating the residents’ curiosity, impatience, and anger about the lack of progress, the second thing we did was to show a segment from the “Black Psychoanalysts Speak” trailer. In the clip played, senior psychoanalyst Kirkland C. Vaughans, PhD, shares: “The issue of race so prompts excessive anxiety that it blocks off our ability to think.”
We showed this clip to validate the trainees’ frustrations about the difficulty the broader establishment has had with addressing this serious, longstanding public health problem. We wanted these young psychiatrists to know that there are psychoanalysts, psychiatrists, psychologists, and social workers who have been committed to this work, even though the contributions of this diverse group have curiously been omitted from education and training curricula.9
So, what happened? What was the painful reminder? After the formal panel presentations, a black male psychiatry resident recounted his experience in a clinical supervision meeting that had occurred several days after the murder of George Floyd. In short, a patient had shared his reactions to yet another incident of fatal police use of force and paused to ask how the resident physician, Dr. A., was doing. The question was experienced as sincere concern about the psychiatrist’s mental well-being. The resident was not sure how to answer this question since it was a matter of self-disclosure, which was a reasonable and thoughtful consideration for a seasoned clinician and, certainly, for a novice therapist. The supervisor, Dr. B., seemingly eager to move on, to not think about this, responded to the resident by saying: “Now tell me about the patient.” In other words, what had just been shared by the resident – material that featured a patient’s reaction to another killing of a black man by police and the patient’s expressed concern for his black psychiatrist, and this resident physician appropriately seeking space in supervision to process and receive guidance about how to respond – all of this was considered separate (split off from) and extraneous to the patient’s treatment and the resident’s training. This is a problem. And, unfortunately, this problem or some variation of it is not rare.
Why is this still the state of affairs when we have identified racism as a major health concern and our patients and our trainees are asking for help?
Rethinking a metaphor
Despite calls to action over the last 50 years to encourage medicine to effectively address race and racism, deficits remain in didactic education, clinical rotations, and supervisory experiences of trainees learning how to do psychodynamic psychotherapy.8-10 Earlier that evening, we used the metaphor of a vehicular blind spot to capture what we believe occurs insupervision. Like drivers, supervisors generally have the ability to see. However, there are places (times) and positions (stances) that block their vision (awareness). Racism – whether institutionalized, interpersonally mediated, or internalized – also contributes to this blindness.
As is true of drivers managing a blind spot, what is required is for the drivers – the supervisors – to lean forward or reposition themselves so as to avoid collisions, maintain safety, and continue on course. We use this metaphor because it is understood that any clinician providing psychodynamic supervision to psychiatry residents, regardless of professional discipline, has the requisite skills and training.10-13
Until May 25, we thought eliminating blind spots would be effective. But, in the aftermath of the police killing of George Floyd, our eyes have been opened.
Hiding behind the blue wall of silence is an establishment that has looked the other way while black and brown women, men, and children have come to live in fear as a result of the state-sanctioned violence that repeatedly occurs across the nation. Excessive police use of force is a public health issue of crisis magnitude. However, the house of medicine, like many other established structures in society, has colluded with the societal constructs that have supported law enforcement by remaining willfully blind, often neutral, and by refusing to make the necessary adjustments, including connecting the dots between police violence and physical and mental health.
For example, racism has never been listed even in the index of the American Psychiatric Association’s (APA) Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders.14 Being the victim of police use of force is not generally regarded as an adverse childhood experience, even though communities that are heavily policed experience harassment by law enforcement on a regular basis. The 12 causes of trauma listed on the website15 of the National Child Traumatic Stress Network – bullying, community violence, complex trauma, disasters, early childhood trauma, intimate partner violence, medical trauma, physical abuse, refugee trauma, sexual abuse, terrorism and violence, and traumatic grief – do not include maltreatment, abuse, or trauma resulting from interactions with members of law enforcement. Much of the adverse childhood experiences literature focuses on white, upper middle class children and on experiences within the home. When community level experiences, such as discrimination based on race or ethnicity, are included, as in the Philadelphia ACES study,16 as many as 40% reported ACE scores of greater than 4 for community level exposures.
As psychiatrists, we recognize the psychic underpinnings and parallels between the psychic projections onto black and brown people and the actual bullets pumped into the bodies of black and brown people; there is a lurid propensity to use these others as repositories. Those who have the privilege of being protected by law enforcement and the ability to avoid being used as containers for the psychic projections and bullets of some police officers also have the privilege of compartmentalizing and looking the other way when excessive acts of force – projections and projectiles – are used on other human beings. This partly explains why the injuries and deaths of black and brown people caused by police officers’ excessive use of force have continued even though these unjustified deaths are widely televised and disseminated via various social media platforms.
Prior to the death of George Floyd on May 25, other than the American Public Health Association, the National Medical Association (NMA) was the only major medical organization to issue a call to consider police use of force as a public health issue. In its July 2016 press release, provided in the aftermath of the death of Freddie Gray while in the custody of Baltimore police officers, the NMA summarized the scope of injuries citizens sustain during “the pre-custody (commission of a crime, during a fight, chase, and apprehension, during a siege or hostage situation, or during restraint or submission), custody (soon after being admitted to jail, during interrogation, during incarceration, or legal execution), and post-custody (revenge by police or rival criminals or after reentry into the community)” periods. It is noteworthy that the scope of these injuries is comparable to those encountered in a combat zone.17,18 According to the NMA:
“Injuries sustained by civilians at the hands of law enforcement include gunshot wounds, skull fractures, cervical spine injuries, facial fractures, broken legs, blunt trauma orbital floor fractures, laryngeal cartilage fractures, shoulder dislocations, cuts and bruises, concussions, hemorrhage, choking (positional or due to upper body holds), abdominal trauma, hemothorax, and pneumothorax. Complications of such injuries include posttraumatic brain swelling, infections following open fractures and lacerations, hydrocephalus due to blood or infection, as well as subdural and epidural hematomas and, in the most severe cases, death.”
In addition, there are multiple emotional and psychiatric sequelae of these injuries for the victims, families, upstanders, bystanders, and those viewing these images via various social media platforms. Increasingly, many are experiencing retraumatization each time a new death is reported. How do we explain that we are turning away from this as physicians and trainers of physicians? Seeing and not seeing – all of the methods used to avert one’s gaze and look the other way (to protect the psyches of nonmarginalized members of society from being disturbed and possibly traumatized) – these key defense mechanisms creep into consulting rooms and become fertile ground for the enactment described above.
Yet, there is reason to believe in change. It’s not simply because we are mental health professionals and that’s what we do. With the posting of position statements issued by major corporations and a growing number of medical organizations, many of us are experiencing a mixture of hope, anger, and sadness. Hope that widespread awareness will continue to tilt the axis of our country in a manner that opens eyes – and hearts – so that real work can be done; and anger and sadness because it has taken 400 years to receive even this level of validation.
In the meantime, we are encouraged by a joint position statement recently issued by the APA and the NMA, the first joint effort by these two medical organizations to partner and advocate for criminal justice reform. We mention this statement because the NMA has been committed to the needs of the black community since its inception in 1895, and the APA has as its mission a commitment to serve “the needs of evolving, diverse, underrepresented, and underserved patient populations” ... and the resources to do so. This is the kind of partnership that could transform words into meaningful action.19,20
Of course, resident psychiatrist Dr. A. had begun supervision with the discussion of his dyadic experience with his patient, which is set in the context of a global coronavirus pandemic that is disproportionately affecting black and brown people. And, while his peers are marching in protest, he and his fellow trainees deserve our support as they deal with their own psychic pain and prepare to steady themselves. For these psychiatrists will be called to provide care to those who will consult them once they begin to grapple with the experiences and, in some cases, traumas that have compelled them to take action and literally risk their safety and lives while protesting.
That evening, the residents were hungry for methods to fill the gaps in their training and supervision. In some cases, we provided scripts to be taken back to supervision. For example, the following is a potential scripted response for the supervisor in the enactment described above:
Resident speaking to supervisor: This is a black patient who, like many others, is affected by the chronic, repeated televised images of black men killed by police. I am also a black man.
I think what I have shared is pertinent to the patient’s care and my experience as a black male psychiatrist who will need to learn how to address this in my patients who are black and for other racialized groups, as well as with whites who might have rarely been cared for by a black man. Can we discuss this?
We also anticipated that some residents would need to exercise their right to request reassignment to another supervisor. And, until we do better at listening, seeing, and deepening our understanding, outside and inside the consulting room and in supervision, more residents might need to steer around those who have the potential to undermine training and adversely affect treatment. But, as a professional medical community in crisis, do we really want to proceed in such an ad hoc fashion?
Dr. Dunlap is a psychiatrist and psychoanalyst, and clinical professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at George Washington University. She is interested in the management of “difference” – race, gender, ethnicity, and intersectionality – in dyadic relationships and group dynamics; and the impact of racism on interpersonal relationships in institutional structures. Dr. Dunlap practices in Washington and has no disclosures.
Dr. Dennis is a clinical psychologist and psychoanalyst. Her interests are in gender and ethnic diversity, health equity, and supervision and training. Dr. Dennis practices in Washington and has no disclosures.
Dr. DeSouza is a PGY-4 psychiatry resident and public psychiatry fellow in the department of psychiatry at Yale University, New Haven, Conn. Her professional interests include health services development and delivery in low- and middle-income settings, as well as the intersection of mental health and spirituality. She has no disclosures.
Dr. Isom is a staff psychiatrist at the Codman Square Health Center in Dorchester, Mass., and Boston Medical Center. Her interests include racial mental health equity and population health approaches to community psychiatry. She has no disclosures.
Dr. Mathis is an addictions fellow in the department of psychiatry at Yale University and former programwide chief resident at Yale. Her interests include the intersection of racial justice and mental health, health equity, and spirituality. She has no disclosures.
References
1. Mental Health: Culture, Race, and Ethnicity. A Supplement to Mental Health: A Report of the Surgeon General. Rockville, Md.: Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration, 2001.
2. Banaji MR and Greenwald AG. Blindspot: Hidden Biases of Good People. New York: Delacorte Press, 2013.
3. Anekwe ON. Voices in Bioethics. 2014.
4. Soute BJ. The American Psychoanalyst Magazine. 2017 Winter/Spring.
5. Powell DR. J Am Psychoanal Assoc. 2019 Jan 8. doi: 10.1177/000306511881847.
6. Allen TW. The Invention of the White Race. London: Verso, 1994.
7. Klein M. Int J Psychoanal. 1946;27(pt.3-4):99-100.
8. Bion WR. (1962b). Psychoanal Q. 2013 Apr;82(2):301-10.
9. Black Psychoanalysts Speak trailer.
10. Thomas A and Sillen S. Racism and Psychiatry. New York: Brunner/Mazel, 1972.
11. Jones BE et al. Am J Psychiatry. 1970 Dec;127(6):798-803.
12. Sabshin M et al. Am J Psychiatry. 1970 Dec;126(6):787-93.
13. Medlock M et al. Am J Psychiatry. 2017 May 9. doi: 10.1176/appi.ajp-rj.2016.110206.
14. Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, fifth edition (DSM-5). Arlington, Va.: American Psychiatric Association, 2013.
15. “What is Child Trauma?” The National Child Traumatic Stress Network.
16. The Philadelphia Project. Philadelphia ACE Survey.
17. “Addressing law enforcement violence as a public health issue.” Washington: American Public Health Association. 2018 Nov 13. Policy# 20811.
18. National Medical Association position statement on police use of force. NMA 2016.
19. “APA and NMA jointly condemn systemic racism in America.” 2020 Jun 16.
20. APA Strategic Plan. 2015 Mar.
On the Friday evening after the public execution of George Floyd, we were painfully reminded of the urgency to address the inadequate management of race, racism, and anti-blackness in medical education, residency training, and postgraduate continuing medical education.
The reminder did not originate from the rioting that was occurring in some cities, though we could feel the ground shifting beneath our feet as civic protests that began in U.S. cities spread around the globe. Instead, it occurred during a webinar we were hosting for psychiatry residents focused on techniques for eliminating blind spots in the management of race in clinical psychotherapy supervision. (Dr. Jessica Isom chaired the webinar, Dr. Flavia DeSouza and Dr. Myra Mathis comoderated, and Dr. Ebony Dennis and Dr. Constance E. Dunlap served as discussants.)
Our panel had presented an ambitious agenda that included reviewing how the disavowal of bias, race, racism, and anti-blackness contributes to ineffective psychotherapy, undermines the quality of medical care, and perpetuates mental health disparities. We spent some time exploring how unacknowledged and unexamined conscious and unconscious racial stereotypes affect interpersonal relationships, the psychotherapeutic process, and the supervisory experience. Our presentation included a clinical vignette demonstrating how racism, colorism, and anti-blackness have global impact, influencing the self-esteem, identity formation, and identity consolidation of immigrants as they grapple with the unique form of racism that exists in America. Other clinical vignettes demonstrated blind spots that were retroactively identified though omitted in supervisory discussions. We also discussed alternative interventions and interpretations of the material presented.1-5
Because 21st-century trainees are generally psychologically astute and committed to social justice, we did two things. First, before the webinar, we provided them access to a prerecorded explanation of object relations theorist Melanie Klein’s paranoid-schizoid and depressive positions concepts, which were applied to theoretically explain the development of race, specifically the defenses used by early colonists that contributed to the development of “whiteness” and “blackness” as social constructs, and their influence on the development of the U.S. psyche. For example, as early colonists attempted to develop new and improved identities distinct from those they had in their homelands, they used enslaved black people (and other vulnerable groups) to “other.” What we mean here by othering is the process of using an other to project one’s badness into in order to relieve the self of uncomfortable aspects and feelings originating within the self. If this other accepts the projection (which is often the case with vulnerable parties), the self recognizes, that is, identifies (locates) the bad they just projected in the other, who is now experienced as a bad-other. This is projection in action. If the other accepts the projection and behaves accordingly, for example, in a manner that reflects badness, this becomes projective identification. Conversely, if the other does not accept these projections, the self (who projects) is left to cope with aspects of the self s/he might not have the capacity to manage. By capacity, we are speaking of the Bionian idea of the ability to experience an extreme emotion while also being able to think. Without the ego strength to cope with bad aspects of the self, the ego either collapses (and is unable to think) or further projection is attempted.6-8
We have seen this latter dynamic play out repeatedly when police officers fatally shoot black citizens and then claim that they feared for their lives; these same officers have been exonerated by juries by continuing to portray the deceased victims as threatening, dangerous objects not worthy of living. We are also seeing a global movement of black and nonblack people who are in touch with a justified rage that has motivated them to return these projections by collectively protesting, and in some cases, by rioting.
Back to the webinar
In anticipating the residents’ curiosity, impatience, and anger about the lack of progress, the second thing we did was to show a segment from the “Black Psychoanalysts Speak” trailer. In the clip played, senior psychoanalyst Kirkland C. Vaughans, PhD, shares: “The issue of race so prompts excessive anxiety that it blocks off our ability to think.”
We showed this clip to validate the trainees’ frustrations about the difficulty the broader establishment has had with addressing this serious, longstanding public health problem. We wanted these young psychiatrists to know that there are psychoanalysts, psychiatrists, psychologists, and social workers who have been committed to this work, even though the contributions of this diverse group have curiously been omitted from education and training curricula.9
So, what happened? What was the painful reminder? After the formal panel presentations, a black male psychiatry resident recounted his experience in a clinical supervision meeting that had occurred several days after the murder of George Floyd. In short, a patient had shared his reactions to yet another incident of fatal police use of force and paused to ask how the resident physician, Dr. A., was doing. The question was experienced as sincere concern about the psychiatrist’s mental well-being. The resident was not sure how to answer this question since it was a matter of self-disclosure, which was a reasonable and thoughtful consideration for a seasoned clinician and, certainly, for a novice therapist. The supervisor, Dr. B., seemingly eager to move on, to not think about this, responded to the resident by saying: “Now tell me about the patient.” In other words, what had just been shared by the resident – material that featured a patient’s reaction to another killing of a black man by police and the patient’s expressed concern for his black psychiatrist, and this resident physician appropriately seeking space in supervision to process and receive guidance about how to respond – all of this was considered separate (split off from) and extraneous to the patient’s treatment and the resident’s training. This is a problem. And, unfortunately, this problem or some variation of it is not rare.
Why is this still the state of affairs when we have identified racism as a major health concern and our patients and our trainees are asking for help?
Rethinking a metaphor
Despite calls to action over the last 50 years to encourage medicine to effectively address race and racism, deficits remain in didactic education, clinical rotations, and supervisory experiences of trainees learning how to do psychodynamic psychotherapy.8-10 Earlier that evening, we used the metaphor of a vehicular blind spot to capture what we believe occurs insupervision. Like drivers, supervisors generally have the ability to see. However, there are places (times) and positions (stances) that block their vision (awareness). Racism – whether institutionalized, interpersonally mediated, or internalized – also contributes to this blindness.
As is true of drivers managing a blind spot, what is required is for the drivers – the supervisors – to lean forward or reposition themselves so as to avoid collisions, maintain safety, and continue on course. We use this metaphor because it is understood that any clinician providing psychodynamic supervision to psychiatry residents, regardless of professional discipline, has the requisite skills and training.10-13
Until May 25, we thought eliminating blind spots would be effective. But, in the aftermath of the police killing of George Floyd, our eyes have been opened.
Hiding behind the blue wall of silence is an establishment that has looked the other way while black and brown women, men, and children have come to live in fear as a result of the state-sanctioned violence that repeatedly occurs across the nation. Excessive police use of force is a public health issue of crisis magnitude. However, the house of medicine, like many other established structures in society, has colluded with the societal constructs that have supported law enforcement by remaining willfully blind, often neutral, and by refusing to make the necessary adjustments, including connecting the dots between police violence and physical and mental health.
For example, racism has never been listed even in the index of the American Psychiatric Association’s (APA) Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders.14 Being the victim of police use of force is not generally regarded as an adverse childhood experience, even though communities that are heavily policed experience harassment by law enforcement on a regular basis. The 12 causes of trauma listed on the website15 of the National Child Traumatic Stress Network – bullying, community violence, complex trauma, disasters, early childhood trauma, intimate partner violence, medical trauma, physical abuse, refugee trauma, sexual abuse, terrorism and violence, and traumatic grief – do not include maltreatment, abuse, or trauma resulting from interactions with members of law enforcement. Much of the adverse childhood experiences literature focuses on white, upper middle class children and on experiences within the home. When community level experiences, such as discrimination based on race or ethnicity, are included, as in the Philadelphia ACES study,16 as many as 40% reported ACE scores of greater than 4 for community level exposures.
As psychiatrists, we recognize the psychic underpinnings and parallels between the psychic projections onto black and brown people and the actual bullets pumped into the bodies of black and brown people; there is a lurid propensity to use these others as repositories. Those who have the privilege of being protected by law enforcement and the ability to avoid being used as containers for the psychic projections and bullets of some police officers also have the privilege of compartmentalizing and looking the other way when excessive acts of force – projections and projectiles – are used on other human beings. This partly explains why the injuries and deaths of black and brown people caused by police officers’ excessive use of force have continued even though these unjustified deaths are widely televised and disseminated via various social media platforms.
Prior to the death of George Floyd on May 25, other than the American Public Health Association, the National Medical Association (NMA) was the only major medical organization to issue a call to consider police use of force as a public health issue. In its July 2016 press release, provided in the aftermath of the death of Freddie Gray while in the custody of Baltimore police officers, the NMA summarized the scope of injuries citizens sustain during “the pre-custody (commission of a crime, during a fight, chase, and apprehension, during a siege or hostage situation, or during restraint or submission), custody (soon after being admitted to jail, during interrogation, during incarceration, or legal execution), and post-custody (revenge by police or rival criminals or after reentry into the community)” periods. It is noteworthy that the scope of these injuries is comparable to those encountered in a combat zone.17,18 According to the NMA:
“Injuries sustained by civilians at the hands of law enforcement include gunshot wounds, skull fractures, cervical spine injuries, facial fractures, broken legs, blunt trauma orbital floor fractures, laryngeal cartilage fractures, shoulder dislocations, cuts and bruises, concussions, hemorrhage, choking (positional or due to upper body holds), abdominal trauma, hemothorax, and pneumothorax. Complications of such injuries include posttraumatic brain swelling, infections following open fractures and lacerations, hydrocephalus due to blood or infection, as well as subdural and epidural hematomas and, in the most severe cases, death.”
In addition, there are multiple emotional and psychiatric sequelae of these injuries for the victims, families, upstanders, bystanders, and those viewing these images via various social media platforms. Increasingly, many are experiencing retraumatization each time a new death is reported. How do we explain that we are turning away from this as physicians and trainers of physicians? Seeing and not seeing – all of the methods used to avert one’s gaze and look the other way (to protect the psyches of nonmarginalized members of society from being disturbed and possibly traumatized) – these key defense mechanisms creep into consulting rooms and become fertile ground for the enactment described above.
Yet, there is reason to believe in change. It’s not simply because we are mental health professionals and that’s what we do. With the posting of position statements issued by major corporations and a growing number of medical organizations, many of us are experiencing a mixture of hope, anger, and sadness. Hope that widespread awareness will continue to tilt the axis of our country in a manner that opens eyes – and hearts – so that real work can be done; and anger and sadness because it has taken 400 years to receive even this level of validation.
In the meantime, we are encouraged by a joint position statement recently issued by the APA and the NMA, the first joint effort by these two medical organizations to partner and advocate for criminal justice reform. We mention this statement because the NMA has been committed to the needs of the black community since its inception in 1895, and the APA has as its mission a commitment to serve “the needs of evolving, diverse, underrepresented, and underserved patient populations” ... and the resources to do so. This is the kind of partnership that could transform words into meaningful action.19,20
Of course, resident psychiatrist Dr. A. had begun supervision with the discussion of his dyadic experience with his patient, which is set in the context of a global coronavirus pandemic that is disproportionately affecting black and brown people. And, while his peers are marching in protest, he and his fellow trainees deserve our support as they deal with their own psychic pain and prepare to steady themselves. For these psychiatrists will be called to provide care to those who will consult them once they begin to grapple with the experiences and, in some cases, traumas that have compelled them to take action and literally risk their safety and lives while protesting.
That evening, the residents were hungry for methods to fill the gaps in their training and supervision. In some cases, we provided scripts to be taken back to supervision. For example, the following is a potential scripted response for the supervisor in the enactment described above:
Resident speaking to supervisor: This is a black patient who, like many others, is affected by the chronic, repeated televised images of black men killed by police. I am also a black man.
I think what I have shared is pertinent to the patient’s care and my experience as a black male psychiatrist who will need to learn how to address this in my patients who are black and for other racialized groups, as well as with whites who might have rarely been cared for by a black man. Can we discuss this?
We also anticipated that some residents would need to exercise their right to request reassignment to another supervisor. And, until we do better at listening, seeing, and deepening our understanding, outside and inside the consulting room and in supervision, more residents might need to steer around those who have the potential to undermine training and adversely affect treatment. But, as a professional medical community in crisis, do we really want to proceed in such an ad hoc fashion?
Dr. Dunlap is a psychiatrist and psychoanalyst, and clinical professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at George Washington University. She is interested in the management of “difference” – race, gender, ethnicity, and intersectionality – in dyadic relationships and group dynamics; and the impact of racism on interpersonal relationships in institutional structures. Dr. Dunlap practices in Washington and has no disclosures.
Dr. Dennis is a clinical psychologist and psychoanalyst. Her interests are in gender and ethnic diversity, health equity, and supervision and training. Dr. Dennis practices in Washington and has no disclosures.
Dr. DeSouza is a PGY-4 psychiatry resident and public psychiatry fellow in the department of psychiatry at Yale University, New Haven, Conn. Her professional interests include health services development and delivery in low- and middle-income settings, as well as the intersection of mental health and spirituality. She has no disclosures.
Dr. Isom is a staff psychiatrist at the Codman Square Health Center in Dorchester, Mass., and Boston Medical Center. Her interests include racial mental health equity and population health approaches to community psychiatry. She has no disclosures.
Dr. Mathis is an addictions fellow in the department of psychiatry at Yale University and former programwide chief resident at Yale. Her interests include the intersection of racial justice and mental health, health equity, and spirituality. She has no disclosures.
References
1. Mental Health: Culture, Race, and Ethnicity. A Supplement to Mental Health: A Report of the Surgeon General. Rockville, Md.: Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration, 2001.
2. Banaji MR and Greenwald AG. Blindspot: Hidden Biases of Good People. New York: Delacorte Press, 2013.
3. Anekwe ON. Voices in Bioethics. 2014.
4. Soute BJ. The American Psychoanalyst Magazine. 2017 Winter/Spring.
5. Powell DR. J Am Psychoanal Assoc. 2019 Jan 8. doi: 10.1177/000306511881847.
6. Allen TW. The Invention of the White Race. London: Verso, 1994.
7. Klein M. Int J Psychoanal. 1946;27(pt.3-4):99-100.
8. Bion WR. (1962b). Psychoanal Q. 2013 Apr;82(2):301-10.
9. Black Psychoanalysts Speak trailer.
10. Thomas A and Sillen S. Racism and Psychiatry. New York: Brunner/Mazel, 1972.
11. Jones BE et al. Am J Psychiatry. 1970 Dec;127(6):798-803.
12. Sabshin M et al. Am J Psychiatry. 1970 Dec;126(6):787-93.
13. Medlock M et al. Am J Psychiatry. 2017 May 9. doi: 10.1176/appi.ajp-rj.2016.110206.
14. Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, fifth edition (DSM-5). Arlington, Va.: American Psychiatric Association, 2013.
15. “What is Child Trauma?” The National Child Traumatic Stress Network.
16. The Philadelphia Project. Philadelphia ACE Survey.
17. “Addressing law enforcement violence as a public health issue.” Washington: American Public Health Association. 2018 Nov 13. Policy# 20811.
18. National Medical Association position statement on police use of force. NMA 2016.
19. “APA and NMA jointly condemn systemic racism in America.” 2020 Jun 16.
20. APA Strategic Plan. 2015 Mar.
On the Friday evening after the public execution of George Floyd, we were painfully reminded of the urgency to address the inadequate management of race, racism, and anti-blackness in medical education, residency training, and postgraduate continuing medical education.
The reminder did not originate from the rioting that was occurring in some cities, though we could feel the ground shifting beneath our feet as civic protests that began in U.S. cities spread around the globe. Instead, it occurred during a webinar we were hosting for psychiatry residents focused on techniques for eliminating blind spots in the management of race in clinical psychotherapy supervision. (Dr. Jessica Isom chaired the webinar, Dr. Flavia DeSouza and Dr. Myra Mathis comoderated, and Dr. Ebony Dennis and Dr. Constance E. Dunlap served as discussants.)
Our panel had presented an ambitious agenda that included reviewing how the disavowal of bias, race, racism, and anti-blackness contributes to ineffective psychotherapy, undermines the quality of medical care, and perpetuates mental health disparities. We spent some time exploring how unacknowledged and unexamined conscious and unconscious racial stereotypes affect interpersonal relationships, the psychotherapeutic process, and the supervisory experience. Our presentation included a clinical vignette demonstrating how racism, colorism, and anti-blackness have global impact, influencing the self-esteem, identity formation, and identity consolidation of immigrants as they grapple with the unique form of racism that exists in America. Other clinical vignettes demonstrated blind spots that were retroactively identified though omitted in supervisory discussions. We also discussed alternative interventions and interpretations of the material presented.1-5
Because 21st-century trainees are generally psychologically astute and committed to social justice, we did two things. First, before the webinar, we provided them access to a prerecorded explanation of object relations theorist Melanie Klein’s paranoid-schizoid and depressive positions concepts, which were applied to theoretically explain the development of race, specifically the defenses used by early colonists that contributed to the development of “whiteness” and “blackness” as social constructs, and their influence on the development of the U.S. psyche. For example, as early colonists attempted to develop new and improved identities distinct from those they had in their homelands, they used enslaved black people (and other vulnerable groups) to “other.” What we mean here by othering is the process of using an other to project one’s badness into in order to relieve the self of uncomfortable aspects and feelings originating within the self. If this other accepts the projection (which is often the case with vulnerable parties), the self recognizes, that is, identifies (locates) the bad they just projected in the other, who is now experienced as a bad-other. This is projection in action. If the other accepts the projection and behaves accordingly, for example, in a manner that reflects badness, this becomes projective identification. Conversely, if the other does not accept these projections, the self (who projects) is left to cope with aspects of the self s/he might not have the capacity to manage. By capacity, we are speaking of the Bionian idea of the ability to experience an extreme emotion while also being able to think. Without the ego strength to cope with bad aspects of the self, the ego either collapses (and is unable to think) or further projection is attempted.6-8
We have seen this latter dynamic play out repeatedly when police officers fatally shoot black citizens and then claim that they feared for their lives; these same officers have been exonerated by juries by continuing to portray the deceased victims as threatening, dangerous objects not worthy of living. We are also seeing a global movement of black and nonblack people who are in touch with a justified rage that has motivated them to return these projections by collectively protesting, and in some cases, by rioting.
Back to the webinar
In anticipating the residents’ curiosity, impatience, and anger about the lack of progress, the second thing we did was to show a segment from the “Black Psychoanalysts Speak” trailer. In the clip played, senior psychoanalyst Kirkland C. Vaughans, PhD, shares: “The issue of race so prompts excessive anxiety that it blocks off our ability to think.”
We showed this clip to validate the trainees’ frustrations about the difficulty the broader establishment has had with addressing this serious, longstanding public health problem. We wanted these young psychiatrists to know that there are psychoanalysts, psychiatrists, psychologists, and social workers who have been committed to this work, even though the contributions of this diverse group have curiously been omitted from education and training curricula.9
So, what happened? What was the painful reminder? After the formal panel presentations, a black male psychiatry resident recounted his experience in a clinical supervision meeting that had occurred several days after the murder of George Floyd. In short, a patient had shared his reactions to yet another incident of fatal police use of force and paused to ask how the resident physician, Dr. A., was doing. The question was experienced as sincere concern about the psychiatrist’s mental well-being. The resident was not sure how to answer this question since it was a matter of self-disclosure, which was a reasonable and thoughtful consideration for a seasoned clinician and, certainly, for a novice therapist. The supervisor, Dr. B., seemingly eager to move on, to not think about this, responded to the resident by saying: “Now tell me about the patient.” In other words, what had just been shared by the resident – material that featured a patient’s reaction to another killing of a black man by police and the patient’s expressed concern for his black psychiatrist, and this resident physician appropriately seeking space in supervision to process and receive guidance about how to respond – all of this was considered separate (split off from) and extraneous to the patient’s treatment and the resident’s training. This is a problem. And, unfortunately, this problem or some variation of it is not rare.
Why is this still the state of affairs when we have identified racism as a major health concern and our patients and our trainees are asking for help?
Rethinking a metaphor
Despite calls to action over the last 50 years to encourage medicine to effectively address race and racism, deficits remain in didactic education, clinical rotations, and supervisory experiences of trainees learning how to do psychodynamic psychotherapy.8-10 Earlier that evening, we used the metaphor of a vehicular blind spot to capture what we believe occurs insupervision. Like drivers, supervisors generally have the ability to see. However, there are places (times) and positions (stances) that block their vision (awareness). Racism – whether institutionalized, interpersonally mediated, or internalized – also contributes to this blindness.
As is true of drivers managing a blind spot, what is required is for the drivers – the supervisors – to lean forward or reposition themselves so as to avoid collisions, maintain safety, and continue on course. We use this metaphor because it is understood that any clinician providing psychodynamic supervision to psychiatry residents, regardless of professional discipline, has the requisite skills and training.10-13
Until May 25, we thought eliminating blind spots would be effective. But, in the aftermath of the police killing of George Floyd, our eyes have been opened.
Hiding behind the blue wall of silence is an establishment that has looked the other way while black and brown women, men, and children have come to live in fear as a result of the state-sanctioned violence that repeatedly occurs across the nation. Excessive police use of force is a public health issue of crisis magnitude. However, the house of medicine, like many other established structures in society, has colluded with the societal constructs that have supported law enforcement by remaining willfully blind, often neutral, and by refusing to make the necessary adjustments, including connecting the dots between police violence and physical and mental health.
For example, racism has never been listed even in the index of the American Psychiatric Association’s (APA) Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders.14 Being the victim of police use of force is not generally regarded as an adverse childhood experience, even though communities that are heavily policed experience harassment by law enforcement on a regular basis. The 12 causes of trauma listed on the website15 of the National Child Traumatic Stress Network – bullying, community violence, complex trauma, disasters, early childhood trauma, intimate partner violence, medical trauma, physical abuse, refugee trauma, sexual abuse, terrorism and violence, and traumatic grief – do not include maltreatment, abuse, or trauma resulting from interactions with members of law enforcement. Much of the adverse childhood experiences literature focuses on white, upper middle class children and on experiences within the home. When community level experiences, such as discrimination based on race or ethnicity, are included, as in the Philadelphia ACES study,16 as many as 40% reported ACE scores of greater than 4 for community level exposures.
As psychiatrists, we recognize the psychic underpinnings and parallels between the psychic projections onto black and brown people and the actual bullets pumped into the bodies of black and brown people; there is a lurid propensity to use these others as repositories. Those who have the privilege of being protected by law enforcement and the ability to avoid being used as containers for the psychic projections and bullets of some police officers also have the privilege of compartmentalizing and looking the other way when excessive acts of force – projections and projectiles – are used on other human beings. This partly explains why the injuries and deaths of black and brown people caused by police officers’ excessive use of force have continued even though these unjustified deaths are widely televised and disseminated via various social media platforms.
Prior to the death of George Floyd on May 25, other than the American Public Health Association, the National Medical Association (NMA) was the only major medical organization to issue a call to consider police use of force as a public health issue. In its July 2016 press release, provided in the aftermath of the death of Freddie Gray while in the custody of Baltimore police officers, the NMA summarized the scope of injuries citizens sustain during “the pre-custody (commission of a crime, during a fight, chase, and apprehension, during a siege or hostage situation, or during restraint or submission), custody (soon after being admitted to jail, during interrogation, during incarceration, or legal execution), and post-custody (revenge by police or rival criminals or after reentry into the community)” periods. It is noteworthy that the scope of these injuries is comparable to those encountered in a combat zone.17,18 According to the NMA:
“Injuries sustained by civilians at the hands of law enforcement include gunshot wounds, skull fractures, cervical spine injuries, facial fractures, broken legs, blunt trauma orbital floor fractures, laryngeal cartilage fractures, shoulder dislocations, cuts and bruises, concussions, hemorrhage, choking (positional or due to upper body holds), abdominal trauma, hemothorax, and pneumothorax. Complications of such injuries include posttraumatic brain swelling, infections following open fractures and lacerations, hydrocephalus due to blood or infection, as well as subdural and epidural hematomas and, in the most severe cases, death.”
In addition, there are multiple emotional and psychiatric sequelae of these injuries for the victims, families, upstanders, bystanders, and those viewing these images via various social media platforms. Increasingly, many are experiencing retraumatization each time a new death is reported. How do we explain that we are turning away from this as physicians and trainers of physicians? Seeing and not seeing – all of the methods used to avert one’s gaze and look the other way (to protect the psyches of nonmarginalized members of society from being disturbed and possibly traumatized) – these key defense mechanisms creep into consulting rooms and become fertile ground for the enactment described above.
Yet, there is reason to believe in change. It’s not simply because we are mental health professionals and that’s what we do. With the posting of position statements issued by major corporations and a growing number of medical organizations, many of us are experiencing a mixture of hope, anger, and sadness. Hope that widespread awareness will continue to tilt the axis of our country in a manner that opens eyes – and hearts – so that real work can be done; and anger and sadness because it has taken 400 years to receive even this level of validation.
In the meantime, we are encouraged by a joint position statement recently issued by the APA and the NMA, the first joint effort by these two medical organizations to partner and advocate for criminal justice reform. We mention this statement because the NMA has been committed to the needs of the black community since its inception in 1895, and the APA has as its mission a commitment to serve “the needs of evolving, diverse, underrepresented, and underserved patient populations” ... and the resources to do so. This is the kind of partnership that could transform words into meaningful action.19,20
Of course, resident psychiatrist Dr. A. had begun supervision with the discussion of his dyadic experience with his patient, which is set in the context of a global coronavirus pandemic that is disproportionately affecting black and brown people. And, while his peers are marching in protest, he and his fellow trainees deserve our support as they deal with their own psychic pain and prepare to steady themselves. For these psychiatrists will be called to provide care to those who will consult them once they begin to grapple with the experiences and, in some cases, traumas that have compelled them to take action and literally risk their safety and lives while protesting.
That evening, the residents were hungry for methods to fill the gaps in their training and supervision. In some cases, we provided scripts to be taken back to supervision. For example, the following is a potential scripted response for the supervisor in the enactment described above:
Resident speaking to supervisor: This is a black patient who, like many others, is affected by the chronic, repeated televised images of black men killed by police. I am also a black man.
I think what I have shared is pertinent to the patient’s care and my experience as a black male psychiatrist who will need to learn how to address this in my patients who are black and for other racialized groups, as well as with whites who might have rarely been cared for by a black man. Can we discuss this?
We also anticipated that some residents would need to exercise their right to request reassignment to another supervisor. And, until we do better at listening, seeing, and deepening our understanding, outside and inside the consulting room and in supervision, more residents might need to steer around those who have the potential to undermine training and adversely affect treatment. But, as a professional medical community in crisis, do we really want to proceed in such an ad hoc fashion?
Dr. Dunlap is a psychiatrist and psychoanalyst, and clinical professor of psychiatry and behavioral sciences at George Washington University. She is interested in the management of “difference” – race, gender, ethnicity, and intersectionality – in dyadic relationships and group dynamics; and the impact of racism on interpersonal relationships in institutional structures. Dr. Dunlap practices in Washington and has no disclosures.
Dr. Dennis is a clinical psychologist and psychoanalyst. Her interests are in gender and ethnic diversity, health equity, and supervision and training. Dr. Dennis practices in Washington and has no disclosures.
Dr. DeSouza is a PGY-4 psychiatry resident and public psychiatry fellow in the department of psychiatry at Yale University, New Haven, Conn. Her professional interests include health services development and delivery in low- and middle-income settings, as well as the intersection of mental health and spirituality. She has no disclosures.
Dr. Isom is a staff psychiatrist at the Codman Square Health Center in Dorchester, Mass., and Boston Medical Center. Her interests include racial mental health equity and population health approaches to community psychiatry. She has no disclosures.
Dr. Mathis is an addictions fellow in the department of psychiatry at Yale University and former programwide chief resident at Yale. Her interests include the intersection of racial justice and mental health, health equity, and spirituality. She has no disclosures.
References
1. Mental Health: Culture, Race, and Ethnicity. A Supplement to Mental Health: A Report of the Surgeon General. Rockville, Md.: Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration, 2001.
2. Banaji MR and Greenwald AG. Blindspot: Hidden Biases of Good People. New York: Delacorte Press, 2013.
3. Anekwe ON. Voices in Bioethics. 2014.
4. Soute BJ. The American Psychoanalyst Magazine. 2017 Winter/Spring.
5. Powell DR. J Am Psychoanal Assoc. 2019 Jan 8. doi: 10.1177/000306511881847.
6. Allen TW. The Invention of the White Race. London: Verso, 1994.
7. Klein M. Int J Psychoanal. 1946;27(pt.3-4):99-100.
8. Bion WR. (1962b). Psychoanal Q. 2013 Apr;82(2):301-10.
9. Black Psychoanalysts Speak trailer.
10. Thomas A and Sillen S. Racism and Psychiatry. New York: Brunner/Mazel, 1972.
11. Jones BE et al. Am J Psychiatry. 1970 Dec;127(6):798-803.
12. Sabshin M et al. Am J Psychiatry. 1970 Dec;126(6):787-93.
13. Medlock M et al. Am J Psychiatry. 2017 May 9. doi: 10.1176/appi.ajp-rj.2016.110206.
14. Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, fifth edition (DSM-5). Arlington, Va.: American Psychiatric Association, 2013.
15. “What is Child Trauma?” The National Child Traumatic Stress Network.
16. The Philadelphia Project. Philadelphia ACE Survey.
17. “Addressing law enforcement violence as a public health issue.” Washington: American Public Health Association. 2018 Nov 13. Policy# 20811.
18. National Medical Association position statement on police use of force. NMA 2016.
19. “APA and NMA jointly condemn systemic racism in America.” 2020 Jun 16.
20. APA Strategic Plan. 2015 Mar.
‘COVID-sorting’: How we decide whom to get close to and whom to avoid
I was recently interviewed, as a gay psychiatrist treating gay patients who lived through the AIDS epidemic, about my perspectives on living through a COVID pandemic: Were there parallels and contrasts between the two? A month later, listening to patients remotely via teletherapy, I’m experiencing an unsettling similarity to serosorting, a phenomenon that emerged during the AIDS epidemic.
Serosorting is the practice of choosing a sexual partner based on their HIV serostatus. Sorting out who was positive from who was negative allowed people to give themselves permission to have unprotected sex without risk of getting HIV. However, it was not uncommon to make those decisions without really knowing a potential partner’s actual serostatus. In fact, a lot of people serosorted by guessing.
Why not just ask a potential partner, “What’s your serostatus?” Apparently, for some, introducing the subject of HIV was deemed a sexual buzzkill. Instead, assumptions were made based on outer appearances.
Did someone look healthy? Were they well built? Were they overweight, meaning not emaciated from AIDS? If so, they were presumed negative and safe to have risky, unprotected sex with them.
Some imagined age correlated with serostatus. Since anyone older than some arbitrary age – like 30, to pull a number out of a hat – was expected to be more likely to have HIV than someone under 30, they would use that guideline in choosing sexual partners. However, these decisions were made without factual knowledge, like a blood test, but using some internal reasoning process.
Which brings us to what might be called “COVID-sorting.”
Some of my patients believe they had COVID-19, although they’d not been tested to either confirm or disprove that belief. Others had positive COVID-19 antibody tests, which they believe provides immunity. Among that group, some had symptoms, others did not.
Yet regardless of what they actually know or don’t know, patients are making calculations about managing physical distancing using their own internal formulas. They make risk calculations having little to do with actual knowledge of public health precautions on preventing COVID’s spread.
For example, one patient was planning a Memorial Day weekend in a shared Fire Island house with five friends and acquaintances. All six live alone and, as far as he knows, all are physically distancing. Consequently, my patient doesn’t think house-sharing is anything to worry about, even though he doesn’t know how scrupulously others have followed distancing guidelines.
Another patient, recovering at home after being ill with COVID-19, felt safe inviting someone over for sex who had also been ill and recovered. He didn’t think they could infect each other, presuming, not altogether unreasonably, they were both immune.
Finally, there are those who don’t know whether they had COVID-19, but think they did because they experienced influenza-like symptoms. They are giving themselves permission to meet up with others who feel the same.
Yet a Mount Sinai study, which has not yet been peer-reviewed, raises fascinating issues about immunity. The study included 719 people who suspected they had COVID-19 based on some respiratory symptoms. The majority, 62%, had no antibodies. Researchers believe they mistook influenza, another viral infection, or allergies for COVID-19 (medRxiv. 2020 May 5. doi: 10.1101/2020.04.04.2008516).
The study also included 624 people who tested positive for the virus and recovered. All but three developed antibodies. Many assume those who are antibody-positive are now immune. They may be right. However, we don’t know definitively that they are, and if they are, we do not yet know how long immunity may last. Further, as reported in the New York Times, just because you test positive for antibodies, doesn’t mean you have them.
It should be underscored that COVID-sorting is not limited to gay men or psychiatric patients. And as many states have begun opening up restrictions on social gatherings, we are seeing an all-too-human psychological mindset with wider implications – rising numbers of cases. As we move forward, all of us will have to decide for ourselves, and not only in sexual situations, how to get on with our lives in a post–COVID-19 era.
Given how much is still unknown, it is likely each of us will come up with our own algorithm of risk assessment. It is likely that the formulas used will not necessarily be based on scientific facts, although that would be ideal. If past epidemic and recent pandemic behaviors are any indicators, people’s actions will reflect some combination of their own needs and desires, their own comfort level with risk-taking, and their relative understanding of complex subjects like virology, immunology, epidemiology, and public health. The challenge faced by public health officials today is to translate complex scientific and medical issues into messages average people can understand.
What exactly can be done? I’m not exactly sure, but I hope that improved education and communication can help. In the first 2 decades of the AIDS epidemic, efforts were made to change and tailor HIV-prevention messages to specific, at-risk demographic groups. Today, public health messages aimed at preventing COVID-19’s spread that resonate with older people can fall on a younger person’s deaf ears. One message size does not fit all. Hopefully, public health officials and government leaders will act on this sooner rather than later.
Dr. Drescher, a psychoanalyst, is clinical professor of psychiatry at Columbia University, and training and supervising analyst at the William A. White Institute, both in New York. He also is emeritus editor of the Journal of Gay & Lesbian Mental Health. Dr. Drescher has no other disclosures.
I was recently interviewed, as a gay psychiatrist treating gay patients who lived through the AIDS epidemic, about my perspectives on living through a COVID pandemic: Were there parallels and contrasts between the two? A month later, listening to patients remotely via teletherapy, I’m experiencing an unsettling similarity to serosorting, a phenomenon that emerged during the AIDS epidemic.
Serosorting is the practice of choosing a sexual partner based on their HIV serostatus. Sorting out who was positive from who was negative allowed people to give themselves permission to have unprotected sex without risk of getting HIV. However, it was not uncommon to make those decisions without really knowing a potential partner’s actual serostatus. In fact, a lot of people serosorted by guessing.
Why not just ask a potential partner, “What’s your serostatus?” Apparently, for some, introducing the subject of HIV was deemed a sexual buzzkill. Instead, assumptions were made based on outer appearances.
Did someone look healthy? Were they well built? Were they overweight, meaning not emaciated from AIDS? If so, they were presumed negative and safe to have risky, unprotected sex with them.
Some imagined age correlated with serostatus. Since anyone older than some arbitrary age – like 30, to pull a number out of a hat – was expected to be more likely to have HIV than someone under 30, they would use that guideline in choosing sexual partners. However, these decisions were made without factual knowledge, like a blood test, but using some internal reasoning process.
Which brings us to what might be called “COVID-sorting.”
Some of my patients believe they had COVID-19, although they’d not been tested to either confirm or disprove that belief. Others had positive COVID-19 antibody tests, which they believe provides immunity. Among that group, some had symptoms, others did not.
Yet regardless of what they actually know or don’t know, patients are making calculations about managing physical distancing using their own internal formulas. They make risk calculations having little to do with actual knowledge of public health precautions on preventing COVID’s spread.
For example, one patient was planning a Memorial Day weekend in a shared Fire Island house with five friends and acquaintances. All six live alone and, as far as he knows, all are physically distancing. Consequently, my patient doesn’t think house-sharing is anything to worry about, even though he doesn’t know how scrupulously others have followed distancing guidelines.
Another patient, recovering at home after being ill with COVID-19, felt safe inviting someone over for sex who had also been ill and recovered. He didn’t think they could infect each other, presuming, not altogether unreasonably, they were both immune.
Finally, there are those who don’t know whether they had COVID-19, but think they did because they experienced influenza-like symptoms. They are giving themselves permission to meet up with others who feel the same.
Yet a Mount Sinai study, which has not yet been peer-reviewed, raises fascinating issues about immunity. The study included 719 people who suspected they had COVID-19 based on some respiratory symptoms. The majority, 62%, had no antibodies. Researchers believe they mistook influenza, another viral infection, or allergies for COVID-19 (medRxiv. 2020 May 5. doi: 10.1101/2020.04.04.2008516).
The study also included 624 people who tested positive for the virus and recovered. All but three developed antibodies. Many assume those who are antibody-positive are now immune. They may be right. However, we don’t know definitively that they are, and if they are, we do not yet know how long immunity may last. Further, as reported in the New York Times, just because you test positive for antibodies, doesn’t mean you have them.
It should be underscored that COVID-sorting is not limited to gay men or psychiatric patients. And as many states have begun opening up restrictions on social gatherings, we are seeing an all-too-human psychological mindset with wider implications – rising numbers of cases. As we move forward, all of us will have to decide for ourselves, and not only in sexual situations, how to get on with our lives in a post–COVID-19 era.
Given how much is still unknown, it is likely each of us will come up with our own algorithm of risk assessment. It is likely that the formulas used will not necessarily be based on scientific facts, although that would be ideal. If past epidemic and recent pandemic behaviors are any indicators, people’s actions will reflect some combination of their own needs and desires, their own comfort level with risk-taking, and their relative understanding of complex subjects like virology, immunology, epidemiology, and public health. The challenge faced by public health officials today is to translate complex scientific and medical issues into messages average people can understand.
What exactly can be done? I’m not exactly sure, but I hope that improved education and communication can help. In the first 2 decades of the AIDS epidemic, efforts were made to change and tailor HIV-prevention messages to specific, at-risk demographic groups. Today, public health messages aimed at preventing COVID-19’s spread that resonate with older people can fall on a younger person’s deaf ears. One message size does not fit all. Hopefully, public health officials and government leaders will act on this sooner rather than later.
Dr. Drescher, a psychoanalyst, is clinical professor of psychiatry at Columbia University, and training and supervising analyst at the William A. White Institute, both in New York. He also is emeritus editor of the Journal of Gay & Lesbian Mental Health. Dr. Drescher has no other disclosures.
I was recently interviewed, as a gay psychiatrist treating gay patients who lived through the AIDS epidemic, about my perspectives on living through a COVID pandemic: Were there parallels and contrasts between the two? A month later, listening to patients remotely via teletherapy, I’m experiencing an unsettling similarity to serosorting, a phenomenon that emerged during the AIDS epidemic.
Serosorting is the practice of choosing a sexual partner based on their HIV serostatus. Sorting out who was positive from who was negative allowed people to give themselves permission to have unprotected sex without risk of getting HIV. However, it was not uncommon to make those decisions without really knowing a potential partner’s actual serostatus. In fact, a lot of people serosorted by guessing.
Why not just ask a potential partner, “What’s your serostatus?” Apparently, for some, introducing the subject of HIV was deemed a sexual buzzkill. Instead, assumptions were made based on outer appearances.
Did someone look healthy? Were they well built? Were they overweight, meaning not emaciated from AIDS? If so, they were presumed negative and safe to have risky, unprotected sex with them.
Some imagined age correlated with serostatus. Since anyone older than some arbitrary age – like 30, to pull a number out of a hat – was expected to be more likely to have HIV than someone under 30, they would use that guideline in choosing sexual partners. However, these decisions were made without factual knowledge, like a blood test, but using some internal reasoning process.
Which brings us to what might be called “COVID-sorting.”
Some of my patients believe they had COVID-19, although they’d not been tested to either confirm or disprove that belief. Others had positive COVID-19 antibody tests, which they believe provides immunity. Among that group, some had symptoms, others did not.
Yet regardless of what they actually know or don’t know, patients are making calculations about managing physical distancing using their own internal formulas. They make risk calculations having little to do with actual knowledge of public health precautions on preventing COVID’s spread.
For example, one patient was planning a Memorial Day weekend in a shared Fire Island house with five friends and acquaintances. All six live alone and, as far as he knows, all are physically distancing. Consequently, my patient doesn’t think house-sharing is anything to worry about, even though he doesn’t know how scrupulously others have followed distancing guidelines.
Another patient, recovering at home after being ill with COVID-19, felt safe inviting someone over for sex who had also been ill and recovered. He didn’t think they could infect each other, presuming, not altogether unreasonably, they were both immune.
Finally, there are those who don’t know whether they had COVID-19, but think they did because they experienced influenza-like symptoms. They are giving themselves permission to meet up with others who feel the same.
Yet a Mount Sinai study, which has not yet been peer-reviewed, raises fascinating issues about immunity. The study included 719 people who suspected they had COVID-19 based on some respiratory symptoms. The majority, 62%, had no antibodies. Researchers believe they mistook influenza, another viral infection, or allergies for COVID-19 (medRxiv. 2020 May 5. doi: 10.1101/2020.04.04.2008516).
The study also included 624 people who tested positive for the virus and recovered. All but three developed antibodies. Many assume those who are antibody-positive are now immune. They may be right. However, we don’t know definitively that they are, and if they are, we do not yet know how long immunity may last. Further, as reported in the New York Times, just because you test positive for antibodies, doesn’t mean you have them.
It should be underscored that COVID-sorting is not limited to gay men or psychiatric patients. And as many states have begun opening up restrictions on social gatherings, we are seeing an all-too-human psychological mindset with wider implications – rising numbers of cases. As we move forward, all of us will have to decide for ourselves, and not only in sexual situations, how to get on with our lives in a post–COVID-19 era.
Given how much is still unknown, it is likely each of us will come up with our own algorithm of risk assessment. It is likely that the formulas used will not necessarily be based on scientific facts, although that would be ideal. If past epidemic and recent pandemic behaviors are any indicators, people’s actions will reflect some combination of their own needs and desires, their own comfort level with risk-taking, and their relative understanding of complex subjects like virology, immunology, epidemiology, and public health. The challenge faced by public health officials today is to translate complex scientific and medical issues into messages average people can understand.
What exactly can be done? I’m not exactly sure, but I hope that improved education and communication can help. In the first 2 decades of the AIDS epidemic, efforts were made to change and tailor HIV-prevention messages to specific, at-risk demographic groups. Today, public health messages aimed at preventing COVID-19’s spread that resonate with older people can fall on a younger person’s deaf ears. One message size does not fit all. Hopefully, public health officials and government leaders will act on this sooner rather than later.
Dr. Drescher, a psychoanalyst, is clinical professor of psychiatry at Columbia University, and training and supervising analyst at the William A. White Institute, both in New York. He also is emeritus editor of the Journal of Gay & Lesbian Mental Health. Dr. Drescher has no other disclosures.
Race and race relations: Be curious, not furious
Racism has been around for a very long time, and we still have a long way to go to eradicate it, in all of its forms. Racism can be subtle, such as not offering employment to a fully qualified candidate or lowering your level of care because of the color of a person’s skin. Also, you never know if the future will place you in the same position as that of the person you are discriminating against or excluding. Diversity through the mixture of cultures and races is what provides a richness to our communities and our country.
No matter what race we may be, we all are human and deserve to be treated and respected as such. The patient you misunderstood, feared, or dismissed could be the same person who helps you become a better physician. For instance, one of my teenage patients of Chinese descent confessed one day that she was feeling depressed, sometimes to the point of suicidal ideation. However, she was adamant that I not report this condition to her parents. From her, I learned that mental illness, such as depression, are taboo subjects in Asian cultures. This information enabled me to be more sensitive with handling this patient’s condition and treatment.
In many cities across America, people have been protesting the recent tragic death of Mr. George Floyd, an African American man killed by a white police officer. In the past few months, unfortunately, we have seen similar cases of racist acts against African Americans. Sadly, this is nothing new.
There are examples of racist acts against other racial groups as well. Since the coronavirus pandemic became global news, Asian Americans have faced a wave of intense xenophobia in the United States. Be mindful that one race suffering injustice in one country could themselves be racist against another group given the opportunity. An example of this was reported in an April 16, 2020, article in the Los Angeles Times. The events took place in Guangzhou, China. The article reported that Africans living there were harassed, targeted, and evicted from their homes in the port city following the positive COVID-19 tests of five Nigerians. Instead of imposing quarantine based on contact history, China’s response has been based on race amid the coronavirus crisis. Stories like this remind us that racism is not just black and white, but can occur by any dominant culture against the minority. To be clear, not everyone is a racist.
Fear of the unknown causes misunderstanding and weakens the relationship between a pediatrician and the patient. Instead, let us “be curious and not furious.”1 We may look different on the outside, but inside we are all human, with feelings, desires, and dreams. An example of being misunderstood is commonly observed as others stereotype African American populations. For example, an African American mother may be described as rude, loud, and disrespectful by those in your office. Such labeling fails to take the time necessary to understand the other’s perspective, and it dismisses her. Why might she be acting this way? What false assumptions are you making? How would you react if you were frequently disrespected or dismissed? How would you react if you had to worry about being physically harmed? Your visage could appear to be angry or guarded – not exactly welcoming or pleasant. It is much easier to quickly dismiss such a patient and not be sincerely interested in what she or her child’s medical needs may be. Such a disposition only results in frustrating outcomes and the destruction of trust between a patient and the provider.
Although I encounter racism daily in my work, I strive to put aside those violations as I treat my patients and interact with their parents. The decision to be inquisitive and empathetic is a conscious one, which can disarm strangers, allowing for trust to be built. It can engender a smile as well.
Teachers frequently refer parents to us when their children are having learning or behavioral difficulties in school. One challenging case for me involved a Latino boy with learning difficulties. The mother, who does not speak English, had been struggling with getting help for her son. I decided to attend a meeting for the patient’s Individualized Education Plan (IEP) at his school (an IEP is a requirement of the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act, or IDEA). My presence at the meeting, given that I am also fluent in Spanish, provided a bridge in communication between the parent and the teachers. Moreover, my presence persuaded the patient’s teachers to be more aggressive in designing an individualized plan to truly help my patient. Latino and African American students commonly suffer from disparities in health and education. In my own practice, I also work toward improving disparities within Latino and African American communities through medical education initiatives. There is so much we, as pediatricians, can do to advocate for these communities.
The absence of empathy leading to the killing of Mr. Floyd admittedly is not the same as what generates an inadequate IEP or the desire to avoid a “loud” parent. Even so, any lack of empathy lowers the quality of patient care. It takes conscious effort to be open to helping someone you do not innately understand. Quality pediatric care cannot happen where racism and misunderstanding exist between a patient and provider. Until we truly stop being selfish, the issue of racism will continue to resurface. One impactful way the majority population can help people of color is by not being a bystander to injustice. Inaction makes you an accomplice to the racist act. We must be brave – “be curious, not furious.” Remember that an injustice to one culture eventually becomes an injustice against us all. Being open to what is different, new, or not well known is how a culture becomes richer and even better.
Dr. Mba Wright is a primary care pediatrician practicing in Sacramento, Calif., for more than 14 years. She has no relevant financial disclosures. Email her at [email protected].
Reference
1. “Going the Distance: Finding and Keeping Lifelong Love” (New York, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1991).
Racism has been around for a very long time, and we still have a long way to go to eradicate it, in all of its forms. Racism can be subtle, such as not offering employment to a fully qualified candidate or lowering your level of care because of the color of a person’s skin. Also, you never know if the future will place you in the same position as that of the person you are discriminating against or excluding. Diversity through the mixture of cultures and races is what provides a richness to our communities and our country.
No matter what race we may be, we all are human and deserve to be treated and respected as such. The patient you misunderstood, feared, or dismissed could be the same person who helps you become a better physician. For instance, one of my teenage patients of Chinese descent confessed one day that she was feeling depressed, sometimes to the point of suicidal ideation. However, she was adamant that I not report this condition to her parents. From her, I learned that mental illness, such as depression, are taboo subjects in Asian cultures. This information enabled me to be more sensitive with handling this patient’s condition and treatment.
In many cities across America, people have been protesting the recent tragic death of Mr. George Floyd, an African American man killed by a white police officer. In the past few months, unfortunately, we have seen similar cases of racist acts against African Americans. Sadly, this is nothing new.
There are examples of racist acts against other racial groups as well. Since the coronavirus pandemic became global news, Asian Americans have faced a wave of intense xenophobia in the United States. Be mindful that one race suffering injustice in one country could themselves be racist against another group given the opportunity. An example of this was reported in an April 16, 2020, article in the Los Angeles Times. The events took place in Guangzhou, China. The article reported that Africans living there were harassed, targeted, and evicted from their homes in the port city following the positive COVID-19 tests of five Nigerians. Instead of imposing quarantine based on contact history, China’s response has been based on race amid the coronavirus crisis. Stories like this remind us that racism is not just black and white, but can occur by any dominant culture against the minority. To be clear, not everyone is a racist.
Fear of the unknown causes misunderstanding and weakens the relationship between a pediatrician and the patient. Instead, let us “be curious and not furious.”1 We may look different on the outside, but inside we are all human, with feelings, desires, and dreams. An example of being misunderstood is commonly observed as others stereotype African American populations. For example, an African American mother may be described as rude, loud, and disrespectful by those in your office. Such labeling fails to take the time necessary to understand the other’s perspective, and it dismisses her. Why might she be acting this way? What false assumptions are you making? How would you react if you were frequently disrespected or dismissed? How would you react if you had to worry about being physically harmed? Your visage could appear to be angry or guarded – not exactly welcoming or pleasant. It is much easier to quickly dismiss such a patient and not be sincerely interested in what she or her child’s medical needs may be. Such a disposition only results in frustrating outcomes and the destruction of trust between a patient and the provider.
Although I encounter racism daily in my work, I strive to put aside those violations as I treat my patients and interact with their parents. The decision to be inquisitive and empathetic is a conscious one, which can disarm strangers, allowing for trust to be built. It can engender a smile as well.
Teachers frequently refer parents to us when their children are having learning or behavioral difficulties in school. One challenging case for me involved a Latino boy with learning difficulties. The mother, who does not speak English, had been struggling with getting help for her son. I decided to attend a meeting for the patient’s Individualized Education Plan (IEP) at his school (an IEP is a requirement of the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act, or IDEA). My presence at the meeting, given that I am also fluent in Spanish, provided a bridge in communication between the parent and the teachers. Moreover, my presence persuaded the patient’s teachers to be more aggressive in designing an individualized plan to truly help my patient. Latino and African American students commonly suffer from disparities in health and education. In my own practice, I also work toward improving disparities within Latino and African American communities through medical education initiatives. There is so much we, as pediatricians, can do to advocate for these communities.
The absence of empathy leading to the killing of Mr. Floyd admittedly is not the same as what generates an inadequate IEP or the desire to avoid a “loud” parent. Even so, any lack of empathy lowers the quality of patient care. It takes conscious effort to be open to helping someone you do not innately understand. Quality pediatric care cannot happen where racism and misunderstanding exist between a patient and provider. Until we truly stop being selfish, the issue of racism will continue to resurface. One impactful way the majority population can help people of color is by not being a bystander to injustice. Inaction makes you an accomplice to the racist act. We must be brave – “be curious, not furious.” Remember that an injustice to one culture eventually becomes an injustice against us all. Being open to what is different, new, or not well known is how a culture becomes richer and even better.
Dr. Mba Wright is a primary care pediatrician practicing in Sacramento, Calif., for more than 14 years. She has no relevant financial disclosures. Email her at [email protected].
Reference
1. “Going the Distance: Finding and Keeping Lifelong Love” (New York, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1991).
Racism has been around for a very long time, and we still have a long way to go to eradicate it, in all of its forms. Racism can be subtle, such as not offering employment to a fully qualified candidate or lowering your level of care because of the color of a person’s skin. Also, you never know if the future will place you in the same position as that of the person you are discriminating against or excluding. Diversity through the mixture of cultures and races is what provides a richness to our communities and our country.
No matter what race we may be, we all are human and deserve to be treated and respected as such. The patient you misunderstood, feared, or dismissed could be the same person who helps you become a better physician. For instance, one of my teenage patients of Chinese descent confessed one day that she was feeling depressed, sometimes to the point of suicidal ideation. However, she was adamant that I not report this condition to her parents. From her, I learned that mental illness, such as depression, are taboo subjects in Asian cultures. This information enabled me to be more sensitive with handling this patient’s condition and treatment.
In many cities across America, people have been protesting the recent tragic death of Mr. George Floyd, an African American man killed by a white police officer. In the past few months, unfortunately, we have seen similar cases of racist acts against African Americans. Sadly, this is nothing new.
There are examples of racist acts against other racial groups as well. Since the coronavirus pandemic became global news, Asian Americans have faced a wave of intense xenophobia in the United States. Be mindful that one race suffering injustice in one country could themselves be racist against another group given the opportunity. An example of this was reported in an April 16, 2020, article in the Los Angeles Times. The events took place in Guangzhou, China. The article reported that Africans living there were harassed, targeted, and evicted from their homes in the port city following the positive COVID-19 tests of five Nigerians. Instead of imposing quarantine based on contact history, China’s response has been based on race amid the coronavirus crisis. Stories like this remind us that racism is not just black and white, but can occur by any dominant culture against the minority. To be clear, not everyone is a racist.
Fear of the unknown causes misunderstanding and weakens the relationship between a pediatrician and the patient. Instead, let us “be curious and not furious.”1 We may look different on the outside, but inside we are all human, with feelings, desires, and dreams. An example of being misunderstood is commonly observed as others stereotype African American populations. For example, an African American mother may be described as rude, loud, and disrespectful by those in your office. Such labeling fails to take the time necessary to understand the other’s perspective, and it dismisses her. Why might she be acting this way? What false assumptions are you making? How would you react if you were frequently disrespected or dismissed? How would you react if you had to worry about being physically harmed? Your visage could appear to be angry or guarded – not exactly welcoming or pleasant. It is much easier to quickly dismiss such a patient and not be sincerely interested in what she or her child’s medical needs may be. Such a disposition only results in frustrating outcomes and the destruction of trust between a patient and the provider.
Although I encounter racism daily in my work, I strive to put aside those violations as I treat my patients and interact with their parents. The decision to be inquisitive and empathetic is a conscious one, which can disarm strangers, allowing for trust to be built. It can engender a smile as well.
Teachers frequently refer parents to us when their children are having learning or behavioral difficulties in school. One challenging case for me involved a Latino boy with learning difficulties. The mother, who does not speak English, had been struggling with getting help for her son. I decided to attend a meeting for the patient’s Individualized Education Plan (IEP) at his school (an IEP is a requirement of the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act, or IDEA). My presence at the meeting, given that I am also fluent in Spanish, provided a bridge in communication between the parent and the teachers. Moreover, my presence persuaded the patient’s teachers to be more aggressive in designing an individualized plan to truly help my patient. Latino and African American students commonly suffer from disparities in health and education. In my own practice, I also work toward improving disparities within Latino and African American communities through medical education initiatives. There is so much we, as pediatricians, can do to advocate for these communities.
The absence of empathy leading to the killing of Mr. Floyd admittedly is not the same as what generates an inadequate IEP or the desire to avoid a “loud” parent. Even so, any lack of empathy lowers the quality of patient care. It takes conscious effort to be open to helping someone you do not innately understand. Quality pediatric care cannot happen where racism and misunderstanding exist between a patient and provider. Until we truly stop being selfish, the issue of racism will continue to resurface. One impactful way the majority population can help people of color is by not being a bystander to injustice. Inaction makes you an accomplice to the racist act. We must be brave – “be curious, not furious.” Remember that an injustice to one culture eventually becomes an injustice against us all. Being open to what is different, new, or not well known is how a culture becomes richer and even better.
Dr. Mba Wright is a primary care pediatrician practicing in Sacramento, Calif., for more than 14 years. She has no relevant financial disclosures. Email her at [email protected].
Reference
1. “Going the Distance: Finding and Keeping Lifelong Love” (New York, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1991).
Examining bias
I have an automatic preference for white people over black people. This isn’t my opinion; rather, it is my implicit bias test result. I didn’t believe it at first. Trying hard to not be biased, I took the test again and received the same outcome. My reaction – disbelief – is typical for those like me: White people who believe they are good human beings.
We’ve all watched in horror the acts of violence against blacks in the news. I was shocked and disgusted. It was easy to believe, however, that I am in no way complicit in the injustice and racism I was watching. I think I’m fair and without prejudice. I have never intentionally discriminated against someone. Wanting to help, I listened to my black colleagues, staff, and patients. What I learned made me uncomfortable.
Through all this news, I’d said little to my colleagues and friends. I cannot identify with how a black person has felt recently. What if I said the wrong thing or caused offense? The safe option is to say nothing. I learned that this is a common reaction and the least helpful. The advice from one black colleague was simple: “Just ask us.” Instead of ignoring the issue, she advised me to say: “I wonder what this experience has been like for you. Would you like to share?” And, if you mean it, to add, “I stand with you.” The latter should be followed by “What can I do to help?” Or, more powerfully, “What have I done that makes me complicit?”
Some of these conversations will be uncomfortable. If you want to help, then sit with that. Feeling uncomfortable might mean you are beginning to understand.
I also heard about the excellent book “White Fragility,” by Robin DiAngelo, PhD. In it, she argues that it is difficult for white people to talk about racism because of a tendency to react with defensiveness, guilt, and sometimes anger.
Many of the chapters in the book were easy to read because they didn’t apply to me: I don’t get angry in equity, inclusion, and diversity meetings. I don’t resent affirmative action programs. But then Dr. DiAngelo got me: I believed because I’m a good person and I have no intention of being racist, I’m absolved. Her argument was enlightening. Like all white people in the United States, I have benefited from white privilege. Yes, I’ve worked hard, but I also grew up in a white family with a college-educated father. That alone afforded me academic and financial advantages, which pushed me ahead. I’ve benefited from the status quo.
I have also failed to speak up when white friends carried on about how unnecessary affirmative action programs have become. I’ve sat with sealed lips when I’ve heard comments like “As a white male, it’s a lot harder to get into prestigious schools now.” Having no intention to harm doesn’t matter; plenty of harm is done unintentionally.
I also believed that because I have good intentions, I have no racial bias. I was wrong. The test I took online is an excellent tool to combat this blind spot. It was created by Harvard researchers and is available to everyone: Take a Test. It asks you to categorize faces as good or bad and records your tiny reaction times. Based on these and other questions, it provides feedback on your personal biases.
I was surprised that I have an implicit preference for white people over black people. That’s the point. Most of us are unaware of our biases and falsely believe we are free of them. I encourage you to take the test and learn about yourself. If the result makes you uncomfortable, then sit with it. Try not to be defensive, as I was, and accept that, even if you are a good person, you can become a better one.
Based on what I’ve learned and heard in the last few weeks, I’ve committed to a few things: To acknowledge the harm done to my black and brown colleagues and my complicity even by acts of omission. To not avoid uncomfortable feelings or uncomfortable conversations. As a leader, to use my organizational status to advocate. To stand by my partners of color not only in dramatic one-time marches but also against the everyday perpetrators of microaggressions. To create a safe space and invite my colleagues, staff, friends, and patients to share.
Standing up against racism is all our responsibility. As Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. reminds us: “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.”
Dr. Benabio is director of healthcare transformation and chief of dermatology at Kaiser Permanente San Diego. The opinions expressed in this column are his own and do not represent those of Kaiser Permanente. He has no disclosures related to this column. Dr. Benabio is @Dermdoc on Twitter. Write to him at [email protected].
I have an automatic preference for white people over black people. This isn’t my opinion; rather, it is my implicit bias test result. I didn’t believe it at first. Trying hard to not be biased, I took the test again and received the same outcome. My reaction – disbelief – is typical for those like me: White people who believe they are good human beings.
We’ve all watched in horror the acts of violence against blacks in the news. I was shocked and disgusted. It was easy to believe, however, that I am in no way complicit in the injustice and racism I was watching. I think I’m fair and without prejudice. I have never intentionally discriminated against someone. Wanting to help, I listened to my black colleagues, staff, and patients. What I learned made me uncomfortable.
Through all this news, I’d said little to my colleagues and friends. I cannot identify with how a black person has felt recently. What if I said the wrong thing or caused offense? The safe option is to say nothing. I learned that this is a common reaction and the least helpful. The advice from one black colleague was simple: “Just ask us.” Instead of ignoring the issue, she advised me to say: “I wonder what this experience has been like for you. Would you like to share?” And, if you mean it, to add, “I stand with you.” The latter should be followed by “What can I do to help?” Or, more powerfully, “What have I done that makes me complicit?”
Some of these conversations will be uncomfortable. If you want to help, then sit with that. Feeling uncomfortable might mean you are beginning to understand.
I also heard about the excellent book “White Fragility,” by Robin DiAngelo, PhD. In it, she argues that it is difficult for white people to talk about racism because of a tendency to react with defensiveness, guilt, and sometimes anger.
Many of the chapters in the book were easy to read because they didn’t apply to me: I don’t get angry in equity, inclusion, and diversity meetings. I don’t resent affirmative action programs. But then Dr. DiAngelo got me: I believed because I’m a good person and I have no intention of being racist, I’m absolved. Her argument was enlightening. Like all white people in the United States, I have benefited from white privilege. Yes, I’ve worked hard, but I also grew up in a white family with a college-educated father. That alone afforded me academic and financial advantages, which pushed me ahead. I’ve benefited from the status quo.
I have also failed to speak up when white friends carried on about how unnecessary affirmative action programs have become. I’ve sat with sealed lips when I’ve heard comments like “As a white male, it’s a lot harder to get into prestigious schools now.” Having no intention to harm doesn’t matter; plenty of harm is done unintentionally.
I also believed that because I have good intentions, I have no racial bias. I was wrong. The test I took online is an excellent tool to combat this blind spot. It was created by Harvard researchers and is available to everyone: Take a Test. It asks you to categorize faces as good or bad and records your tiny reaction times. Based on these and other questions, it provides feedback on your personal biases.
I was surprised that I have an implicit preference for white people over black people. That’s the point. Most of us are unaware of our biases and falsely believe we are free of them. I encourage you to take the test and learn about yourself. If the result makes you uncomfortable, then sit with it. Try not to be defensive, as I was, and accept that, even if you are a good person, you can become a better one.
Based on what I’ve learned and heard in the last few weeks, I’ve committed to a few things: To acknowledge the harm done to my black and brown colleagues and my complicity even by acts of omission. To not avoid uncomfortable feelings or uncomfortable conversations. As a leader, to use my organizational status to advocate. To stand by my partners of color not only in dramatic one-time marches but also against the everyday perpetrators of microaggressions. To create a safe space and invite my colleagues, staff, friends, and patients to share.
Standing up against racism is all our responsibility. As Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. reminds us: “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.”
Dr. Benabio is director of healthcare transformation and chief of dermatology at Kaiser Permanente San Diego. The opinions expressed in this column are his own and do not represent those of Kaiser Permanente. He has no disclosures related to this column. Dr. Benabio is @Dermdoc on Twitter. Write to him at [email protected].
I have an automatic preference for white people over black people. This isn’t my opinion; rather, it is my implicit bias test result. I didn’t believe it at first. Trying hard to not be biased, I took the test again and received the same outcome. My reaction – disbelief – is typical for those like me: White people who believe they are good human beings.
We’ve all watched in horror the acts of violence against blacks in the news. I was shocked and disgusted. It was easy to believe, however, that I am in no way complicit in the injustice and racism I was watching. I think I’m fair and without prejudice. I have never intentionally discriminated against someone. Wanting to help, I listened to my black colleagues, staff, and patients. What I learned made me uncomfortable.
Through all this news, I’d said little to my colleagues and friends. I cannot identify with how a black person has felt recently. What if I said the wrong thing or caused offense? The safe option is to say nothing. I learned that this is a common reaction and the least helpful. The advice from one black colleague was simple: “Just ask us.” Instead of ignoring the issue, she advised me to say: “I wonder what this experience has been like for you. Would you like to share?” And, if you mean it, to add, “I stand with you.” The latter should be followed by “What can I do to help?” Or, more powerfully, “What have I done that makes me complicit?”
Some of these conversations will be uncomfortable. If you want to help, then sit with that. Feeling uncomfortable might mean you are beginning to understand.
I also heard about the excellent book “White Fragility,” by Robin DiAngelo, PhD. In it, she argues that it is difficult for white people to talk about racism because of a tendency to react with defensiveness, guilt, and sometimes anger.
Many of the chapters in the book were easy to read because they didn’t apply to me: I don’t get angry in equity, inclusion, and diversity meetings. I don’t resent affirmative action programs. But then Dr. DiAngelo got me: I believed because I’m a good person and I have no intention of being racist, I’m absolved. Her argument was enlightening. Like all white people in the United States, I have benefited from white privilege. Yes, I’ve worked hard, but I also grew up in a white family with a college-educated father. That alone afforded me academic and financial advantages, which pushed me ahead. I’ve benefited from the status quo.
I have also failed to speak up when white friends carried on about how unnecessary affirmative action programs have become. I’ve sat with sealed lips when I’ve heard comments like “As a white male, it’s a lot harder to get into prestigious schools now.” Having no intention to harm doesn’t matter; plenty of harm is done unintentionally.
I also believed that because I have good intentions, I have no racial bias. I was wrong. The test I took online is an excellent tool to combat this blind spot. It was created by Harvard researchers and is available to everyone: Take a Test. It asks you to categorize faces as good or bad and records your tiny reaction times. Based on these and other questions, it provides feedback on your personal biases.
I was surprised that I have an implicit preference for white people over black people. That’s the point. Most of us are unaware of our biases and falsely believe we are free of them. I encourage you to take the test and learn about yourself. If the result makes you uncomfortable, then sit with it. Try not to be defensive, as I was, and accept that, even if you are a good person, you can become a better one.
Based on what I’ve learned and heard in the last few weeks, I’ve committed to a few things: To acknowledge the harm done to my black and brown colleagues and my complicity even by acts of omission. To not avoid uncomfortable feelings or uncomfortable conversations. As a leader, to use my organizational status to advocate. To stand by my partners of color not only in dramatic one-time marches but also against the everyday perpetrators of microaggressions. To create a safe space and invite my colleagues, staff, friends, and patients to share.
Standing up against racism is all our responsibility. As Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. reminds us: “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.”
Dr. Benabio is director of healthcare transformation and chief of dermatology at Kaiser Permanente San Diego. The opinions expressed in this column are his own and do not represent those of Kaiser Permanente. He has no disclosures related to this column. Dr. Benabio is @Dermdoc on Twitter. Write to him at [email protected].
First-episode psychosis in the time of COVID-19
Patients may need more than weekly teletherapy
In response to COVID-19, we have seen a rapid transformation to virtually delivered mental health care, essential for the prevention and treatment of various mental health conditions during an isolating and stress-inducing pandemic. Yet teletherapy and virtual medication management alone may not adequately address the needs of some of the populations we serve.
Take Jackson, whose name and details have been changed for privacy. A year ago, Jackson, in his last year of high school, began hearing voices that others could not hear. After becoming increasingly withdrawn, his father sought out treatment for him and learned that Jackson was experiencing his first episode of psychosis.
Psychosis involves disruptions in the way one processes thoughts and feelings or behaves, and includes delusions – or unusual beliefs – and hallucinations, meaning seeing and hearing things that others cannot. “First-episode psychosis” (FEP) simply refers to the first time an individual experiences this. It typically occurs between one’s teenage years and their 20s. Whereas some individuals recover from their first episode and may not experience another, others go on to experience recurrence, and sometimes a waxing and waning illness course.
Jackson enrolled in a comprehensive mental health program that not only includes a psychiatrist, but also therapists who provide case management services, as well as a peer specialist; this is someone with lived experience navigating mental illness. The program also includes an employment and education specialist and family and group therapy sessions. His team helped him identify and work toward his personal recovery goals: graduating from high school, obtaining a job, and maintaining a strong relationship with his father.
One hundred thousand adolescents and young adults like Jackson experience FEP each year, and now, in the wake of COVID-19, they probably have more limited access to the kind of support that can be vital to recovery.
Studies have shown that untreated psychosis can detrimentally affect quality of life in several ways, including by negatively affecting interpersonal relationships, interfering with obtaining or maintaining employment, and increasing the risk for problematic substance use. The psychosocial effects of COVID-19 could compound problems that individuals navigating psychosis already face, such as stigmatization, social isolation, and unemployment. On top of this, individuals who experience additional marginalization and downstream effects of systematic discriminatory practices by virtue of their race or ethnicity, immigration status, or language bear the brunt of some of this pandemic’s worst health inequities.
Early and efficacious treatment is critically important for individuals experiencing psychosis. Evidence shows that engagement in coordinated specialty care (CSC) specifically can improve outcomes, including the likelihood of being engaged in school or work and lower rates of hospitalization. CSC is a team-based approach that utilizes the unique skills of every team member to support an individual in reaching their recovery goals, whether it’s starting or finishing college or building a new relationship.
Unlike traditional treatment goals, which often focus on “symptom reduction,” recovery-oriented care is about supporting an individual in obtaining a sense of satisfaction, meaning, and purpose in life. It also supports navigating such experiences as a job interview or a date. These key, multifaceted components must be made accessible and adapted during these times.
For individuals like Jackson, it is crucial to be able to continue accessing quality CSC, even during our current pandemic. Lisa Dixon, MD, a professor of psychiatry at Columbia University, leads ONTrackNY, a statewide FEP program. She states that “effective, recovery-oriented treatment can make such a huge difference in the lives of these young people who are at a potential inflection point in their lives. Creative, collaborative clinicians can maintain connection and support.”
So how can we adapt CSC during this time? In addition to virtualized medication management and individual therapy, other components of CSC can be creatively adapted for online platforms. Group sessions can be completed virtually, from family to peer-led. Though the unemployment rate continues to rise, we can still help participants with a desire to work find employers that are offering remote work or navigate the risks of potential COVID-19 work exposures if remote options aren’t available. We can also support their developing skills to be used once other employers that pose less risk reopen.
For those in school, virtual education support can provide study skills, ways to cope with transition to an online classroom, or help with obtaining tutoring. Nutritionists can work remotely to provide support and creatively use online platforms for real-time feedback in a participant’s kitchen. Virtual case management is even more essential in the wake of COVID-19, from assistance with applying for unemployment insurance and financial aid to obtaining health insurance or determining eligibility.
For those without access to virtual platforms, individual and group telephone sessions and text check-ins can provide meaningful opportunities for continued engagement. For those who are unstably housed or have limited privacy in housing, teams must generate ideas of where to have remote sessions, such as a nearby park.
In a world now dominated by virtual care, it is critically important that individuals needing to see a clinician in person still be able to do so. Whether it is due to an acute crisis or to administer a long-acting injection medication, it is our responsibility to thoughtfully and judiciously remain available to patients, using appropriate personal protective equipment and precautions.
Jackson is one of many young people in recovery from psychosis. He is not defined by or limited by his experiences, but rather is navigating the possibilities that lie ahead of him, defining for himself who he wants to be in this world as it evolves. In the midst of COVID-19, as we seek to innovate – from how we exercise to how we throw birthday parties – let’s also be innovative in how we provide care and support for individuals experiencing psychosis.
This article first appeared on Medscape.com.
Patients may need more than weekly teletherapy
Patients may need more than weekly teletherapy
In response to COVID-19, we have seen a rapid transformation to virtually delivered mental health care, essential for the prevention and treatment of various mental health conditions during an isolating and stress-inducing pandemic. Yet teletherapy and virtual medication management alone may not adequately address the needs of some of the populations we serve.
Take Jackson, whose name and details have been changed for privacy. A year ago, Jackson, in his last year of high school, began hearing voices that others could not hear. After becoming increasingly withdrawn, his father sought out treatment for him and learned that Jackson was experiencing his first episode of psychosis.
Psychosis involves disruptions in the way one processes thoughts and feelings or behaves, and includes delusions – or unusual beliefs – and hallucinations, meaning seeing and hearing things that others cannot. “First-episode psychosis” (FEP) simply refers to the first time an individual experiences this. It typically occurs between one’s teenage years and their 20s. Whereas some individuals recover from their first episode and may not experience another, others go on to experience recurrence, and sometimes a waxing and waning illness course.
Jackson enrolled in a comprehensive mental health program that not only includes a psychiatrist, but also therapists who provide case management services, as well as a peer specialist; this is someone with lived experience navigating mental illness. The program also includes an employment and education specialist and family and group therapy sessions. His team helped him identify and work toward his personal recovery goals: graduating from high school, obtaining a job, and maintaining a strong relationship with his father.
One hundred thousand adolescents and young adults like Jackson experience FEP each year, and now, in the wake of COVID-19, they probably have more limited access to the kind of support that can be vital to recovery.
Studies have shown that untreated psychosis can detrimentally affect quality of life in several ways, including by negatively affecting interpersonal relationships, interfering with obtaining or maintaining employment, and increasing the risk for problematic substance use. The psychosocial effects of COVID-19 could compound problems that individuals navigating psychosis already face, such as stigmatization, social isolation, and unemployment. On top of this, individuals who experience additional marginalization and downstream effects of systematic discriminatory practices by virtue of their race or ethnicity, immigration status, or language bear the brunt of some of this pandemic’s worst health inequities.
Early and efficacious treatment is critically important for individuals experiencing psychosis. Evidence shows that engagement in coordinated specialty care (CSC) specifically can improve outcomes, including the likelihood of being engaged in school or work and lower rates of hospitalization. CSC is a team-based approach that utilizes the unique skills of every team member to support an individual in reaching their recovery goals, whether it’s starting or finishing college or building a new relationship.
Unlike traditional treatment goals, which often focus on “symptom reduction,” recovery-oriented care is about supporting an individual in obtaining a sense of satisfaction, meaning, and purpose in life. It also supports navigating such experiences as a job interview or a date. These key, multifaceted components must be made accessible and adapted during these times.
For individuals like Jackson, it is crucial to be able to continue accessing quality CSC, even during our current pandemic. Lisa Dixon, MD, a professor of psychiatry at Columbia University, leads ONTrackNY, a statewide FEP program. She states that “effective, recovery-oriented treatment can make such a huge difference in the lives of these young people who are at a potential inflection point in their lives. Creative, collaborative clinicians can maintain connection and support.”
So how can we adapt CSC during this time? In addition to virtualized medication management and individual therapy, other components of CSC can be creatively adapted for online platforms. Group sessions can be completed virtually, from family to peer-led. Though the unemployment rate continues to rise, we can still help participants with a desire to work find employers that are offering remote work or navigate the risks of potential COVID-19 work exposures if remote options aren’t available. We can also support their developing skills to be used once other employers that pose less risk reopen.
For those in school, virtual education support can provide study skills, ways to cope with transition to an online classroom, or help with obtaining tutoring. Nutritionists can work remotely to provide support and creatively use online platforms for real-time feedback in a participant’s kitchen. Virtual case management is even more essential in the wake of COVID-19, from assistance with applying for unemployment insurance and financial aid to obtaining health insurance or determining eligibility.
For those without access to virtual platforms, individual and group telephone sessions and text check-ins can provide meaningful opportunities for continued engagement. For those who are unstably housed or have limited privacy in housing, teams must generate ideas of where to have remote sessions, such as a nearby park.
In a world now dominated by virtual care, it is critically important that individuals needing to see a clinician in person still be able to do so. Whether it is due to an acute crisis or to administer a long-acting injection medication, it is our responsibility to thoughtfully and judiciously remain available to patients, using appropriate personal protective equipment and precautions.
Jackson is one of many young people in recovery from psychosis. He is not defined by or limited by his experiences, but rather is navigating the possibilities that lie ahead of him, defining for himself who he wants to be in this world as it evolves. In the midst of COVID-19, as we seek to innovate – from how we exercise to how we throw birthday parties – let’s also be innovative in how we provide care and support for individuals experiencing psychosis.
This article first appeared on Medscape.com.
In response to COVID-19, we have seen a rapid transformation to virtually delivered mental health care, essential for the prevention and treatment of various mental health conditions during an isolating and stress-inducing pandemic. Yet teletherapy and virtual medication management alone may not adequately address the needs of some of the populations we serve.
Take Jackson, whose name and details have been changed for privacy. A year ago, Jackson, in his last year of high school, began hearing voices that others could not hear. After becoming increasingly withdrawn, his father sought out treatment for him and learned that Jackson was experiencing his first episode of psychosis.
Psychosis involves disruptions in the way one processes thoughts and feelings or behaves, and includes delusions – or unusual beliefs – and hallucinations, meaning seeing and hearing things that others cannot. “First-episode psychosis” (FEP) simply refers to the first time an individual experiences this. It typically occurs between one’s teenage years and their 20s. Whereas some individuals recover from their first episode and may not experience another, others go on to experience recurrence, and sometimes a waxing and waning illness course.
Jackson enrolled in a comprehensive mental health program that not only includes a psychiatrist, but also therapists who provide case management services, as well as a peer specialist; this is someone with lived experience navigating mental illness. The program also includes an employment and education specialist and family and group therapy sessions. His team helped him identify and work toward his personal recovery goals: graduating from high school, obtaining a job, and maintaining a strong relationship with his father.
One hundred thousand adolescents and young adults like Jackson experience FEP each year, and now, in the wake of COVID-19, they probably have more limited access to the kind of support that can be vital to recovery.
Studies have shown that untreated psychosis can detrimentally affect quality of life in several ways, including by negatively affecting interpersonal relationships, interfering with obtaining or maintaining employment, and increasing the risk for problematic substance use. The psychosocial effects of COVID-19 could compound problems that individuals navigating psychosis already face, such as stigmatization, social isolation, and unemployment. On top of this, individuals who experience additional marginalization and downstream effects of systematic discriminatory practices by virtue of their race or ethnicity, immigration status, or language bear the brunt of some of this pandemic’s worst health inequities.
Early and efficacious treatment is critically important for individuals experiencing psychosis. Evidence shows that engagement in coordinated specialty care (CSC) specifically can improve outcomes, including the likelihood of being engaged in school or work and lower rates of hospitalization. CSC is a team-based approach that utilizes the unique skills of every team member to support an individual in reaching their recovery goals, whether it’s starting or finishing college or building a new relationship.
Unlike traditional treatment goals, which often focus on “symptom reduction,” recovery-oriented care is about supporting an individual in obtaining a sense of satisfaction, meaning, and purpose in life. It also supports navigating such experiences as a job interview or a date. These key, multifaceted components must be made accessible and adapted during these times.
For individuals like Jackson, it is crucial to be able to continue accessing quality CSC, even during our current pandemic. Lisa Dixon, MD, a professor of psychiatry at Columbia University, leads ONTrackNY, a statewide FEP program. She states that “effective, recovery-oriented treatment can make such a huge difference in the lives of these young people who are at a potential inflection point in their lives. Creative, collaborative clinicians can maintain connection and support.”
So how can we adapt CSC during this time? In addition to virtualized medication management and individual therapy, other components of CSC can be creatively adapted for online platforms. Group sessions can be completed virtually, from family to peer-led. Though the unemployment rate continues to rise, we can still help participants with a desire to work find employers that are offering remote work or navigate the risks of potential COVID-19 work exposures if remote options aren’t available. We can also support their developing skills to be used once other employers that pose less risk reopen.
For those in school, virtual education support can provide study skills, ways to cope with transition to an online classroom, or help with obtaining tutoring. Nutritionists can work remotely to provide support and creatively use online platforms for real-time feedback in a participant’s kitchen. Virtual case management is even more essential in the wake of COVID-19, from assistance with applying for unemployment insurance and financial aid to obtaining health insurance or determining eligibility.
For those without access to virtual platforms, individual and group telephone sessions and text check-ins can provide meaningful opportunities for continued engagement. For those who are unstably housed or have limited privacy in housing, teams must generate ideas of where to have remote sessions, such as a nearby park.
In a world now dominated by virtual care, it is critically important that individuals needing to see a clinician in person still be able to do so. Whether it is due to an acute crisis or to administer a long-acting injection medication, it is our responsibility to thoughtfully and judiciously remain available to patients, using appropriate personal protective equipment and precautions.
Jackson is one of many young people in recovery from psychosis. He is not defined by or limited by his experiences, but rather is navigating the possibilities that lie ahead of him, defining for himself who he wants to be in this world as it evolves. In the midst of COVID-19, as we seek to innovate – from how we exercise to how we throw birthday parties – let’s also be innovative in how we provide care and support for individuals experiencing psychosis.
This article first appeared on Medscape.com.
‘I can’t breathe’: Health inequity and state-sanctioned violence
One might immediately think of the deaths of Eric Garner, George Floyd, or even the fictional character Radio Raheem from Spike Lee’s critically acclaimed film, “Do the Right Thing,” when they hear the words “I can’t breathe.” These words are a cry for help. The deaths of these unarmed black men is devastating and has led to a state of rage, palpable pain, and protest across the world.
However, in this moment, I am talking about the health inequity exposed by the COVID-19 pandemic. Whether it be acute respiratory distress syndrome (ARDS) secondary to severe COVID-19, or the subsequent hypercoagulable state of COVID-19 that leads to venous thromboembolism, many black people in this country are left breathless. Many black patients who had no employee-based health insurance also had no primary care physician to order a SARS-CoV2 PCR lab test for them. Many of these patients have preexisting conditions, such as asthma from living in redlined communities affected by environmental racism. Many grew up in food deserts, where no fresh-produce store was interested enough to set up shop in their neighborhoods. They have been eating fast food since early childhood, as a fast-food burger is still cheaper than a salad. The result is obesity, an epidemic that can lead to diabetes mellitus, hypertension that can lead to coronary artery disease, stroke, and end-stage renal disease.
Earlier in my career, I once had a colleague gleefully tell me that all black people drank Kool-Aid while in discussion of the effects of high-sugar diets in our patients; this colleague was sure I would agree. Not all black people drink Kool-Aid. Secondary to my fear of the backlash that can come from the discomfort of “white fragility” that Robin DiAngelo describes in her New York Times bestseller by the same name, ”White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism,” I refrained from expressing my own hurt, and I did not offer explicit correction. I, instead, took a serious pause. That pause, which lasted only minutes, seemed to last 400 years. It was a brief reflection of the 400 years of systemic racism seeping into everyday life. This included the circumstances that would lead to the health inequities that result in the health disparities from which many black patients suffer. It is that same systemic racism that could create two America’s in which my colleague might not have to know the historic context in which that question could be hurtful. I retorted with modified shock and a chuckle so that I could muster up enough strength to repeat what was said and leave it open for reflection. The goal was for my colleague to realize the obvious implicit bias that lingered, despite intention. The chuckle was also to cover my pain.
Whether we know it or not, we all carry some form of implicit bias, regardless of race, class, gender, ethnicity, sexual preference, or socioeconomic status. In this case, it is the same implicit bias that causes physicians to ignore some black patients when they have said that they are in pain. A groundbreaking April 2016 article in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, “Racial Bias in Pain Assessment and Treatment Recommendations, and False Beliefs about Biological Differences Between Blacks and Whites” (doi: 10.1073/pnas.1516047113), revealed that racial disparities in pain assessment and treatment recommendations can be directly connected to the racial bias of the provider. It could be possible that this phenomenon has affected black patients who have walked into clinics and emergency departments and said, “I’m short of breath. I think that I might have coronavirus and need to be tested.” It may be that same implicit bias that has cut the air supply to a patient encounter. Instead of inquiring further, the patient might be met with minimum questions while their provider obtains their history and physical. Assumptions and blame on behavior and lack of personal responsibility secretly replace questions that could have been asked. Differentials between exacerbations and other etiologies are not explored. Could that patient have been sent home without a SARS-CoV2 polymerase chain reaction test? Well, what if the tests were in short supply? Sometimes they may have been sent home without a chest x-ray. In most cases, there are no funds to send them home with a pulse oximeter.
The act of assuming a person’s story that we consider to be one dimensional is always dangerous – and even more so during this pandemic. That person we can relate to – secondary to a cool pop culture moment, a TikTok song, or a negative stereotype – is not one dimensional. That assumption and that stereotype can make room for implicit bias. That same implicit bias is the knee on a neck of any marginalized patient. Implicit bias is the choke hold that slowly removes the light and life from a person who has a story, who has a family, and who has been an essential worker who can’t work from home. That person is telling us that they can’t breathe, but sometimes the only things seen are comorbidities through a misinformed or biased lens that suggest an assumed lack of personal responsibility. In a May 2020 New England Journal of Medicine perspective, “Racial health disparities and Covid-19” (doi: 10.1056/NEJMp2012910), Merlin Chowkwanyun, PhD, MPH, and Adolph L. Reed Jr., PhD, caution us against creating race-based explanations for presumed behavioral patterns.
Systemic racism has created the myth that the playing field has been leveled since the end of enslavement. It hasn’t. That black man, woman, or nonbinary person is telling you “I can’t breathe. I’m tired. I’m short of breath ... I have a cough ... I’m feeling weak these days, Doc.” However, implicit bias is still that knee that won’t let up. It has not let up. Communities with lower-income black and Hispanic patients have already seen local hospitals and frontline workers fight to save their lives while losing their own to COVID-19. We all witnessed the battle for scarce resources and PPE [personal protective equipment]. In contrast, some wealthy neighborhoods have occupants who most likely have access to a primary care physician and more testing centers.
As we reexamine ourselves and look at these cases of police brutality against unarmed black men, women, and children with the appropriate shame and outrage, let us reflect upon the privileges that we enjoy. Let us find our voice as we speak up for black lives. Let us look deeply into the history of medicine as it relates to black patients by reading “Medical Apartheid: The Dark History of Medical Experimentation on Black Americans from Colonial Times to the Present” by Harriet A. Washington. Let us examine that painful legacy, which, while having moments of good intention, still carries the stain of indifference, racism, neglect, and even experimentation without informed consent.
Why should we do these things? Because some of our black patients have also yelled or whispered, “I can’t breathe,” and we were not always listening either.
Dr. Ajala is a hospitalist and associate site director for education at Grady Memorial Hospital in Atlanta. She is a member of the executive council for SHM’s Care for Vulnerable Populations special interest group.
One might immediately think of the deaths of Eric Garner, George Floyd, or even the fictional character Radio Raheem from Spike Lee’s critically acclaimed film, “Do the Right Thing,” when they hear the words “I can’t breathe.” These words are a cry for help. The deaths of these unarmed black men is devastating and has led to a state of rage, palpable pain, and protest across the world.
However, in this moment, I am talking about the health inequity exposed by the COVID-19 pandemic. Whether it be acute respiratory distress syndrome (ARDS) secondary to severe COVID-19, or the subsequent hypercoagulable state of COVID-19 that leads to venous thromboembolism, many black people in this country are left breathless. Many black patients who had no employee-based health insurance also had no primary care physician to order a SARS-CoV2 PCR lab test for them. Many of these patients have preexisting conditions, such as asthma from living in redlined communities affected by environmental racism. Many grew up in food deserts, where no fresh-produce store was interested enough to set up shop in their neighborhoods. They have been eating fast food since early childhood, as a fast-food burger is still cheaper than a salad. The result is obesity, an epidemic that can lead to diabetes mellitus, hypertension that can lead to coronary artery disease, stroke, and end-stage renal disease.
Earlier in my career, I once had a colleague gleefully tell me that all black people drank Kool-Aid while in discussion of the effects of high-sugar diets in our patients; this colleague was sure I would agree. Not all black people drink Kool-Aid. Secondary to my fear of the backlash that can come from the discomfort of “white fragility” that Robin DiAngelo describes in her New York Times bestseller by the same name, ”White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism,” I refrained from expressing my own hurt, and I did not offer explicit correction. I, instead, took a serious pause. That pause, which lasted only minutes, seemed to last 400 years. It was a brief reflection of the 400 years of systemic racism seeping into everyday life. This included the circumstances that would lead to the health inequities that result in the health disparities from which many black patients suffer. It is that same systemic racism that could create two America’s in which my colleague might not have to know the historic context in which that question could be hurtful. I retorted with modified shock and a chuckle so that I could muster up enough strength to repeat what was said and leave it open for reflection. The goal was for my colleague to realize the obvious implicit bias that lingered, despite intention. The chuckle was also to cover my pain.
Whether we know it or not, we all carry some form of implicit bias, regardless of race, class, gender, ethnicity, sexual preference, or socioeconomic status. In this case, it is the same implicit bias that causes physicians to ignore some black patients when they have said that they are in pain. A groundbreaking April 2016 article in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, “Racial Bias in Pain Assessment and Treatment Recommendations, and False Beliefs about Biological Differences Between Blacks and Whites” (doi: 10.1073/pnas.1516047113), revealed that racial disparities in pain assessment and treatment recommendations can be directly connected to the racial bias of the provider. It could be possible that this phenomenon has affected black patients who have walked into clinics and emergency departments and said, “I’m short of breath. I think that I might have coronavirus and need to be tested.” It may be that same implicit bias that has cut the air supply to a patient encounter. Instead of inquiring further, the patient might be met with minimum questions while their provider obtains their history and physical. Assumptions and blame on behavior and lack of personal responsibility secretly replace questions that could have been asked. Differentials between exacerbations and other etiologies are not explored. Could that patient have been sent home without a SARS-CoV2 polymerase chain reaction test? Well, what if the tests were in short supply? Sometimes they may have been sent home without a chest x-ray. In most cases, there are no funds to send them home with a pulse oximeter.
The act of assuming a person’s story that we consider to be one dimensional is always dangerous – and even more so during this pandemic. That person we can relate to – secondary to a cool pop culture moment, a TikTok song, or a negative stereotype – is not one dimensional. That assumption and that stereotype can make room for implicit bias. That same implicit bias is the knee on a neck of any marginalized patient. Implicit bias is the choke hold that slowly removes the light and life from a person who has a story, who has a family, and who has been an essential worker who can’t work from home. That person is telling us that they can’t breathe, but sometimes the only things seen are comorbidities through a misinformed or biased lens that suggest an assumed lack of personal responsibility. In a May 2020 New England Journal of Medicine perspective, “Racial health disparities and Covid-19” (doi: 10.1056/NEJMp2012910), Merlin Chowkwanyun, PhD, MPH, and Adolph L. Reed Jr., PhD, caution us against creating race-based explanations for presumed behavioral patterns.
Systemic racism has created the myth that the playing field has been leveled since the end of enslavement. It hasn’t. That black man, woman, or nonbinary person is telling you “I can’t breathe. I’m tired. I’m short of breath ... I have a cough ... I’m feeling weak these days, Doc.” However, implicit bias is still that knee that won’t let up. It has not let up. Communities with lower-income black and Hispanic patients have already seen local hospitals and frontline workers fight to save their lives while losing their own to COVID-19. We all witnessed the battle for scarce resources and PPE [personal protective equipment]. In contrast, some wealthy neighborhoods have occupants who most likely have access to a primary care physician and more testing centers.
As we reexamine ourselves and look at these cases of police brutality against unarmed black men, women, and children with the appropriate shame and outrage, let us reflect upon the privileges that we enjoy. Let us find our voice as we speak up for black lives. Let us look deeply into the history of medicine as it relates to black patients by reading “Medical Apartheid: The Dark History of Medical Experimentation on Black Americans from Colonial Times to the Present” by Harriet A. Washington. Let us examine that painful legacy, which, while having moments of good intention, still carries the stain of indifference, racism, neglect, and even experimentation without informed consent.
Why should we do these things? Because some of our black patients have also yelled or whispered, “I can’t breathe,” and we were not always listening either.
Dr. Ajala is a hospitalist and associate site director for education at Grady Memorial Hospital in Atlanta. She is a member of the executive council for SHM’s Care for Vulnerable Populations special interest group.
One might immediately think of the deaths of Eric Garner, George Floyd, or even the fictional character Radio Raheem from Spike Lee’s critically acclaimed film, “Do the Right Thing,” when they hear the words “I can’t breathe.” These words are a cry for help. The deaths of these unarmed black men is devastating and has led to a state of rage, palpable pain, and protest across the world.
However, in this moment, I am talking about the health inequity exposed by the COVID-19 pandemic. Whether it be acute respiratory distress syndrome (ARDS) secondary to severe COVID-19, or the subsequent hypercoagulable state of COVID-19 that leads to venous thromboembolism, many black people in this country are left breathless. Many black patients who had no employee-based health insurance also had no primary care physician to order a SARS-CoV2 PCR lab test for them. Many of these patients have preexisting conditions, such as asthma from living in redlined communities affected by environmental racism. Many grew up in food deserts, where no fresh-produce store was interested enough to set up shop in their neighborhoods. They have been eating fast food since early childhood, as a fast-food burger is still cheaper than a salad. The result is obesity, an epidemic that can lead to diabetes mellitus, hypertension that can lead to coronary artery disease, stroke, and end-stage renal disease.
Earlier in my career, I once had a colleague gleefully tell me that all black people drank Kool-Aid while in discussion of the effects of high-sugar diets in our patients; this colleague was sure I would agree. Not all black people drink Kool-Aid. Secondary to my fear of the backlash that can come from the discomfort of “white fragility” that Robin DiAngelo describes in her New York Times bestseller by the same name, ”White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism,” I refrained from expressing my own hurt, and I did not offer explicit correction. I, instead, took a serious pause. That pause, which lasted only minutes, seemed to last 400 years. It was a brief reflection of the 400 years of systemic racism seeping into everyday life. This included the circumstances that would lead to the health inequities that result in the health disparities from which many black patients suffer. It is that same systemic racism that could create two America’s in which my colleague might not have to know the historic context in which that question could be hurtful. I retorted with modified shock and a chuckle so that I could muster up enough strength to repeat what was said and leave it open for reflection. The goal was for my colleague to realize the obvious implicit bias that lingered, despite intention. The chuckle was also to cover my pain.
Whether we know it or not, we all carry some form of implicit bias, regardless of race, class, gender, ethnicity, sexual preference, or socioeconomic status. In this case, it is the same implicit bias that causes physicians to ignore some black patients when they have said that they are in pain. A groundbreaking April 2016 article in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, “Racial Bias in Pain Assessment and Treatment Recommendations, and False Beliefs about Biological Differences Between Blacks and Whites” (doi: 10.1073/pnas.1516047113), revealed that racial disparities in pain assessment and treatment recommendations can be directly connected to the racial bias of the provider. It could be possible that this phenomenon has affected black patients who have walked into clinics and emergency departments and said, “I’m short of breath. I think that I might have coronavirus and need to be tested.” It may be that same implicit bias that has cut the air supply to a patient encounter. Instead of inquiring further, the patient might be met with minimum questions while their provider obtains their history and physical. Assumptions and blame on behavior and lack of personal responsibility secretly replace questions that could have been asked. Differentials between exacerbations and other etiologies are not explored. Could that patient have been sent home without a SARS-CoV2 polymerase chain reaction test? Well, what if the tests were in short supply? Sometimes they may have been sent home without a chest x-ray. In most cases, there are no funds to send them home with a pulse oximeter.
The act of assuming a person’s story that we consider to be one dimensional is always dangerous – and even more so during this pandemic. That person we can relate to – secondary to a cool pop culture moment, a TikTok song, or a negative stereotype – is not one dimensional. That assumption and that stereotype can make room for implicit bias. That same implicit bias is the knee on a neck of any marginalized patient. Implicit bias is the choke hold that slowly removes the light and life from a person who has a story, who has a family, and who has been an essential worker who can’t work from home. That person is telling us that they can’t breathe, but sometimes the only things seen are comorbidities through a misinformed or biased lens that suggest an assumed lack of personal responsibility. In a May 2020 New England Journal of Medicine perspective, “Racial health disparities and Covid-19” (doi: 10.1056/NEJMp2012910), Merlin Chowkwanyun, PhD, MPH, and Adolph L. Reed Jr., PhD, caution us against creating race-based explanations for presumed behavioral patterns.
Systemic racism has created the myth that the playing field has been leveled since the end of enslavement. It hasn’t. That black man, woman, or nonbinary person is telling you “I can’t breathe. I’m tired. I’m short of breath ... I have a cough ... I’m feeling weak these days, Doc.” However, implicit bias is still that knee that won’t let up. It has not let up. Communities with lower-income black and Hispanic patients have already seen local hospitals and frontline workers fight to save their lives while losing their own to COVID-19. We all witnessed the battle for scarce resources and PPE [personal protective equipment]. In contrast, some wealthy neighborhoods have occupants who most likely have access to a primary care physician and more testing centers.
As we reexamine ourselves and look at these cases of police brutality against unarmed black men, women, and children with the appropriate shame and outrage, let us reflect upon the privileges that we enjoy. Let us find our voice as we speak up for black lives. Let us look deeply into the history of medicine as it relates to black patients by reading “Medical Apartheid: The Dark History of Medical Experimentation on Black Americans from Colonial Times to the Present” by Harriet A. Washington. Let us examine that painful legacy, which, while having moments of good intention, still carries the stain of indifference, racism, neglect, and even experimentation without informed consent.
Why should we do these things? Because some of our black patients have also yelled or whispered, “I can’t breathe,” and we were not always listening either.
Dr. Ajala is a hospitalist and associate site director for education at Grady Memorial Hospital in Atlanta. She is a member of the executive council for SHM’s Care for Vulnerable Populations special interest group.