Commentary

Coronaviruses (CoVs) are among the most common causes of the common cold but also can lead to severe respiratory disease.¹ In recent years, CoVs have been responsible for outbreaks of severe acute respiratory syndrome (SARS) and Middle East respiratory syndrome (MERS), caused by SARS-CoV and MERS-CoV, respectively. Severe acute respiratory syndrome emerged from China in 2002, and MERS started in Saudi Arabia in 2012. In December 2019, several cases of unexplained pneumonia were reported in Wuhan, China.¹ A novel CoV--SARS-CoV-2--was isolated in these patients and is now known to cause coronavirus disease 19 (COVID-19).¹ Coronavirus disease 19 can cause acute respiratory distress and multiorgan failure.^1,2 It spread quickly throughout the world and was declared a pandemic by the World Health Organization on March 11, 2020. According to the Johns Hopkins University Coronavirus Resource Center (https://coronavirus.jhu.edu/map.html), there were approximately 14,500 COVID-19 cases diagnosed worldwide on February 1, 2020; by May 22, 2020, there were more than 5,159,600 cases. Thus, heightened measures for infection prevention and control were put in place around the globe in an attempt to slow the spread of disease.¹  

In this article, we describe the dermatologic implications of COVID-19, including the clinical manifestations of the disease, risk reduction techniques for patients and providers, personal protective equipment-associated adverse reactions, and the financial impact on dermatologists.  

Clinical Manifestations 

At the start of the COVID-19 outbreak, little was known about the skin manifestations of the disease. Providers speculated that COVID-19 could have nonspecific skin findings similar to many other viral illnesses.^3,4 Research throughout the pandemic has found many cutaneous manifestations of the disease.^3-6 A case report from Thailand described a patient who presented with petechiae in addition to fever and thrombocytopenia, which led to an initial misdiagnosis of Dengue fever; however, when the patient began having respiratory symptoms, the diagnosis of COVID-19 was discovered.⁵ Furthermore, a study from Italy (N=88) showed dermatologic findings in 20.4% (18/88) of patients, including erythematous rash (77.8% [14/18]), widespread urticaria (16.7% [3/18]), and chickenpoxlike vesicles (5.6% [1/18]). A recent study from Spain (N=375) found 5 cutaneous patterns associated with COVID-19: pseudochilblain--acral areas of erythema with vesicles and/or pustules--lesions (19%), vesicular eruptions (9%), urticarial lesions (19%), maculopapular eruptions (47%), and livedoid/necrotic lesions (6%).⁶ Pseudochilblain lesions appeared in younger patients, occurred later in the disease course, and were associated with less severe disease. Vesicular lesions often were found in middle-aged patients prior to the onset of other COVID-19 symptoms, and they were associated with intermediate disease severity. Urticarial and maculopapular lesions typically paralleled other COVID-19 symptoms in timing and were associated with more severe disease. Likewise, livedoid and necrotic lesions were associated with more severe disease; they occurred more frequently in older patients.⁶ Clinicians at Cleveland Clinic found similar cutaneous lesions in COVID-19 patients, including morbilliform rashes, acral purpura resembling perniosis, and livedoid lesions.³ Initial biopsies of these lesions pointed to viral exanthema and thrombotic vasculopathy as potential etiologies of morbilliform and livedoid lesions, respectively. Interestingly, patients may present with multiple cutaneous morphologies of the disease at the same time.³ The acral lesions ("COVID toes") have been popularized throughout the media and thus may be the best-known cutaneous manifestation of the disease at this time. New findings continuously arise, and further research is warranted as lesions that develop in hospitalized COVID-19 patients could be virus related or secondary to hospital-induced skin irritation, stressors, or medications.³ Importantly, clinicians should be aware of these cutaneous signs of COVID-19, especially when triaging patients.

Risk Reduction

The current health crisis could have a drastic impact on dermatology patients and providers. One factor that may increase COVID-19 risk in dermatology patients is immunosuppression. Many patients are on immunomodulators and biologics for skin conditions, which can cause immunosuppression directly and indirectly. Immunosuppression is a risk factor for severe disease in patients with COVID-19, so this population is at higher risk for serious infection.⁷ Telemedicine for nonemergent cases and follow-ups should be considered to decrease traffic in high-risk hospitals; to limit the number of people in waiting rooms; and to protect staff, providers, and patients alike.¹ Recommendations for teledermatology consultation during this time include the following: First, have patients take photographs of their skin lesions and send them remotely to the consulting physician. If the lesion is easily recognizable, treatment recommendations can be made remotely; if the diagnosis is ambiguous, the dermatologist can set up an in-person appointment.¹  

Personal Protective Equipment

Moreover, the current need to wear personal protective equipment (PPE) and wash hands frequently may lead to skin disease among health care providers. Facial rashes may arise from wearing masks and goggles, and repeated handwashing and wearing gloves may lead to hand dermatitis.⁸ One study examined adverse skin reactions among health care workers (N=322) during the SARS outbreak in 2003. More than one-third (35.5%) of staff members who wore masks regularly during the outbreak reported adverse skin reactions, including acne (59.6%), facial itching (51.4%), and rash (35.8%).⁸ The acne etiology likely is multifactorial. Masks increase heat and humidity in the covered facial region, which can cause acne flare-ups due to increased sebum production and Cutibacterium acnes growth.⁸ Additionally, tight N95 masks may occlude the pilosebaceous glands, causing acne to flare. In the SARS study, facial itchiness and rashes likely were due to irritant contact dermatitis to the N95 masks. All of the respondents with adverse skin reactions from masks developed them after using N95 masks; those who wore surgical masks did not report reactions.⁸ Because N95 masks are recommended for health care workers caring for patients with highly transmissible respiratory infections such as SARS and COVID-19, it will be difficult to avoid wearing them during the current crisis. For this reason, topical retinoids and topical benzoyl peroxide should be the first-line treatment of mask-induced acne, and moisturization and topical corticosteroids should be used for facial erythema. Additionally, 21.4% of respondents reported adverse skin reactions from latex gloves during the SARS outbreak, including dry skin, itchiness, rash, and wheals.⁸ These skin reactions may have been type I IgE-mediated hypersensitivity reactions or irritant contact dermatitis due to latex sensitization and frequent handwashing. No respondents reported skin reactions to plastic gloves.⁸ For this reason, health care providers should consider wearing plastic gloves in lieu of or under latex gloves to prevent hand dermatitis during this time. Moisturization, barrier creams, and topical corticosteroids also can help treat hand dermatitis. Frequently changing PPE may help prevent skin disease among the frontline health care workers,⁸ which posed a problem at the beginning of the COVID-19 outbreak as there was a PPE shortage. With industry and individuals coming together to make and donate PPE, it is now more widely available for our frontline providers.  

Financial Impact

Finally, the pandemic is having an immense financial impact on dermatology.⁹ At the onset of the outbreak, our role as health care providers was to help slow the spread of COVID-19; for this reason, most elective procedures were cancelled, and many outpatient clinics closed. Both elective procedures and outpatient visits are central to dermatology, so many dermatologists worked less or not at all during this time, leading to a loss of revenue. The goals of these measures were to reduce transmissibility of the disease, to prevent the health care system from being overwhelmed with critical COVID-19 cases, and to allocate resources to the frontline providers.⁹ Although these measures were beneficial for slowing the spread of disease, they were detrimental to some providers' and practices' financial stability. Many dermatology practices have begun to reopen with COVID-19 precautions in place. For example, practices are limiting the number of patients that can be in the office at one time, mandating temperature readings upon check-in, and requiring masks be worn throughout the entire visit. With continued recommendations for individuals to stay at home as much as possible, the number of patients being seen in dermatology clinics on a daily basis remains less than normal. One potential solution is telemedicine, which would allow patients' concerns to be addressed while keeping providers practicing with a normal patient volume during this time.⁹ Keeping providers financially afloat is vital for private practices to continue operating after the pandemic. Dermatology appointments are in high demand with long waiting lists during nonpandemic times; without dermatologists practicing at full capacity, there will be an accumulation of patients with dermatologic conditions with even longer waiting times after the pandemic. Telemedicine may help reduce this potential accumulation of patients and allow patients to be treated in a more timely manner while alleviating financial pressures for providers.

Final Thoughts

The COVID-19 pandemic has spread across the world, infecting millions of people. Although the trends have slowed, more than 106,100 cases are still being diagnosed daily according to the Johns Hopkins University Coronavirus Resource Center (https://coronavirus.jhu.edu/map.html). Patients with COVID-19 may present with a variety of cutaneous lesions. Wearing PPE to take care of COVID-19 patients may lead to skin irritation, so care should be taken to address these adverse skin reactions to maintain the safety of providers. Finally, dermatologists should consider telemedicine during this time to protect high-risk patients, prevent a postpandemic surge of patients, and alleviate financial stressors caused by COVID-19.

Coronaviruses (CoVs) are among the most common causes of the common cold but also can lead to severe respiratory disease.¹ In recent years, CoVs have been responsible for outbreaks of severe acute respiratory syndrome (SARS) and Middle East respiratory syndrome (MERS), caused by SARS-CoV and MERS-CoV, respectively. Severe acute respiratory syndrome emerged from China in 2002, and MERS started in Saudi Arabia in 2012. In December 2019, several cases of unexplained pneumonia were reported in Wuhan, China.¹ A novel CoV--SARS-CoV-2--was isolated in these patients and is now known to cause coronavirus disease 19 (COVID-19).¹ Coronavirus disease 19 can cause acute respiratory distress and multiorgan failure.^1,2 It spread quickly throughout the world and was declared a pandemic by the World Health Organization on March 11, 2020. According to the Johns Hopkins University Coronavirus Resource Center (https://coronavirus.jhu.edu/map.html), there were approximately 14,500 COVID-19 cases diagnosed worldwide on February 1, 2020; by May 22, 2020, there were more than 5,159,600 cases. Thus, heightened measures for infection prevention and control were put in place around the globe in an attempt to slow the spread of disease.¹  

In this article, we describe the dermatologic implications of COVID-19, including the clinical manifestations of the disease, risk reduction techniques for patients and providers, personal protective equipment-associated adverse reactions, and the financial impact on dermatologists.  

Clinical Manifestations 

At the start of the COVID-19 outbreak, little was known about the skin manifestations of the disease. Providers speculated that COVID-19 could have nonspecific skin findings similar to many other viral illnesses.^3,4 Research throughout the pandemic has found many cutaneous manifestations of the disease.^3-6 A case report from Thailand described a patient who presented with petechiae in addition to fever and thrombocytopenia, which led to an initial misdiagnosis of Dengue fever; however, when the patient began having respiratory symptoms, the diagnosis of COVID-19 was discovered.⁵ Furthermore, a study from Italy (N=88) showed dermatologic findings in 20.4% (18/88) of patients, including erythematous rash (77.8% [14/18]), widespread urticaria (16.7% [3/18]), and chickenpoxlike vesicles (5.6% [1/18]). A recent study from Spain (N=375) found 5 cutaneous patterns associated with COVID-19: pseudochilblain--acral areas of erythema with vesicles and/or pustules--lesions (19%), vesicular eruptions (9%), urticarial lesions (19%), maculopapular eruptions (47%), and livedoid/necrotic lesions (6%).⁶ Pseudochilblain lesions appeared in younger patients, occurred later in the disease course, and were associated with less severe disease. Vesicular lesions often were found in middle-aged patients prior to the onset of other COVID-19 symptoms, and they were associated with intermediate disease severity. Urticarial and maculopapular lesions typically paralleled other COVID-19 symptoms in timing and were associated with more severe disease. Likewise, livedoid and necrotic lesions were associated with more severe disease; they occurred more frequently in older patients.⁶ Clinicians at Cleveland Clinic found similar cutaneous lesions in COVID-19 patients, including morbilliform rashes, acral purpura resembling perniosis, and livedoid lesions.³ Initial biopsies of these lesions pointed to viral exanthema and thrombotic vasculopathy as potential etiologies of morbilliform and livedoid lesions, respectively. Interestingly, patients may present with multiple cutaneous morphologies of the disease at the same time.³ The acral lesions ("COVID toes") have been popularized throughout the media and thus may be the best-known cutaneous manifestation of the disease at this time. New findings continuously arise, and further research is warranted as lesions that develop in hospitalized COVID-19 patients could be virus related or secondary to hospital-induced skin irritation, stressors, or medications.³ Importantly, clinicians should be aware of these cutaneous signs of COVID-19, especially when triaging patients.

Risk Reduction

The current health crisis could have a drastic impact on dermatology patients and providers. One factor that may increase COVID-19 risk in dermatology patients is immunosuppression. Many patients are on immunomodulators and biologics for skin conditions, which can cause immunosuppression directly and indirectly. Immunosuppression is a risk factor for severe disease in patients with COVID-19, so this population is at higher risk for serious infection.⁷ Telemedicine for nonemergent cases and follow-ups should be considered to decrease traffic in high-risk hospitals; to limit the number of people in waiting rooms; and to protect staff, providers, and patients alike.¹ Recommendations for teledermatology consultation during this time include the following: First, have patients take photographs of their skin lesions and send them remotely to the consulting physician. If the lesion is easily recognizable, treatment recommendations can be made remotely; if the diagnosis is ambiguous, the dermatologist can set up an in-person appointment.¹  

Personal Protective Equipment

Moreover, the current need to wear personal protective equipment (PPE) and wash hands frequently may lead to skin disease among health care providers. Facial rashes may arise from wearing masks and goggles, and repeated handwashing and wearing gloves may lead to hand dermatitis.⁸ One study examined adverse skin reactions among health care workers (N=322) during the SARS outbreak in 2003. More than one-third (35.5%) of staff members who wore masks regularly during the outbreak reported adverse skin reactions, including acne (59.6%), facial itching (51.4%), and rash (35.8%).⁸ The acne etiology likely is multifactorial. Masks increase heat and humidity in the covered facial region, which can cause acne flare-ups due to increased sebum production and Cutibacterium acnes growth.⁸ Additionally, tight N95 masks may occlude the pilosebaceous glands, causing acne to flare. In the SARS study, facial itchiness and rashes likely were due to irritant contact dermatitis to the N95 masks. All of the respondents with adverse skin reactions from masks developed them after using N95 masks; those who wore surgical masks did not report reactions.⁸ Because N95 masks are recommended for health care workers caring for patients with highly transmissible respiratory infections such as SARS and COVID-19, it will be difficult to avoid wearing them during the current crisis. For this reason, topical retinoids and topical benzoyl peroxide should be the first-line treatment of mask-induced acne, and moisturization and topical corticosteroids should be used for facial erythema. Additionally, 21.4% of respondents reported adverse skin reactions from latex gloves during the SARS outbreak, including dry skin, itchiness, rash, and wheals.⁸ These skin reactions may have been type I IgE-mediated hypersensitivity reactions or irritant contact dermatitis due to latex sensitization and frequent handwashing. No respondents reported skin reactions to plastic gloves.⁸ For this reason, health care providers should consider wearing plastic gloves in lieu of or under latex gloves to prevent hand dermatitis during this time. Moisturization, barrier creams, and topical corticosteroids also can help treat hand dermatitis. Frequently changing PPE may help prevent skin disease among the frontline health care workers,⁸ which posed a problem at the beginning of the COVID-19 outbreak as there was a PPE shortage. With industry and individuals coming together to make and donate PPE, it is now more widely available for our frontline providers.  

Financial Impact

Finally, the pandemic is having an immense financial impact on dermatology.⁹ At the onset of the outbreak, our role as health care providers was to help slow the spread of COVID-19; for this reason, most elective procedures were cancelled, and many outpatient clinics closed. Both elective procedures and outpatient visits are central to dermatology, so many dermatologists worked less or not at all during this time, leading to a loss of revenue. The goals of these measures were to reduce transmissibility of the disease, to prevent the health care system from being overwhelmed with critical COVID-19 cases, and to allocate resources to the frontline providers.⁹ Although these measures were beneficial for slowing the spread of disease, they were detrimental to some providers' and practices' financial stability. Many dermatology practices have begun to reopen with COVID-19 precautions in place. For example, practices are limiting the number of patients that can be in the office at one time, mandating temperature readings upon check-in, and requiring masks be worn throughout the entire visit. With continued recommendations for individuals to stay at home as much as possible, the number of patients being seen in dermatology clinics on a daily basis remains less than normal. One potential solution is telemedicine, which would allow patients' concerns to be addressed while keeping providers practicing with a normal patient volume during this time.⁹ Keeping providers financially afloat is vital for private practices to continue operating after the pandemic. Dermatology appointments are in high demand with long waiting lists during nonpandemic times; without dermatologists practicing at full capacity, there will be an accumulation of patients with dermatologic conditions with even longer waiting times after the pandemic. Telemedicine may help reduce this potential accumulation of patients and allow patients to be treated in a more timely manner while alleviating financial pressures for providers.

Final Thoughts

The COVID-19 pandemic has spread across the world, infecting millions of people. Although the trends have slowed, more than 106,100 cases are still being diagnosed daily according to the Johns Hopkins University Coronavirus Resource Center (https://coronavirus.jhu.edu/map.html). Patients with COVID-19 may present with a variety of cutaneous lesions. Wearing PPE to take care of COVID-19 patients may lead to skin irritation, so care should be taken to address these adverse skin reactions to maintain the safety of providers. Finally, dermatologists should consider telemedicine during this time to protect high-risk patients, prevent a postpandemic surge of patients, and alleviate financial stressors caused by COVID-19.

Coronaviruses (CoVs) are among the most common causes of the common cold but also can lead to severe respiratory disease.¹ In recent years, CoVs have been responsible for outbreaks of severe acute respiratory syndrome (SARS) and Middle East respiratory syndrome (MERS), caused by SARS-CoV and MERS-CoV, respectively. Severe acute respiratory syndrome emerged from China in 2002, and MERS started in Saudi Arabia in 2012. In December 2019, several cases of unexplained pneumonia were reported in Wuhan, China.¹ A novel CoV--SARS-CoV-2--was isolated in these patients and is now known to cause coronavirus disease 19 (COVID-19).¹ Coronavirus disease 19 can cause acute respiratory distress and multiorgan failure.^1,2 It spread quickly throughout the world and was declared a pandemic by the World Health Organization on March 11, 2020. According to the Johns Hopkins University Coronavirus Resource Center (https://coronavirus.jhu.edu/map.html), there were approximately 14,500 COVID-19 cases diagnosed worldwide on February 1, 2020; by May 22, 2020, there were more than 5,159,600 cases. Thus, heightened measures for infection prevention and control were put in place around the globe in an attempt to slow the spread of disease.¹  

In this article, we describe the dermatologic implications of COVID-19, including the clinical manifestations of the disease, risk reduction techniques for patients and providers, personal protective equipment-associated adverse reactions, and the financial impact on dermatologists.  

Clinical Manifestations 

At the start of the COVID-19 outbreak, little was known about the skin manifestations of the disease. Providers speculated that COVID-19 could have nonspecific skin findings similar to many other viral illnesses.^3,4 Research throughout the pandemic has found many cutaneous manifestations of the disease.^3-6 A case report from Thailand described a patient who presented with petechiae in addition to fever and thrombocytopenia, which led to an initial misdiagnosis of Dengue fever; however, when the patient began having respiratory symptoms, the diagnosis of COVID-19 was discovered.⁵ Furthermore, a study from Italy (N=88) showed dermatologic findings in 20.4% (18/88) of patients, including erythematous rash (77.8% [14/18]), widespread urticaria (16.7% [3/18]), and chickenpoxlike vesicles (5.6% [1/18]). A recent study from Spain (N=375) found 5 cutaneous patterns associated with COVID-19: pseudochilblain--acral areas of erythema with vesicles and/or pustules--lesions (19%), vesicular eruptions (9%), urticarial lesions (19%), maculopapular eruptions (47%), and livedoid/necrotic lesions (6%).⁶ Pseudochilblain lesions appeared in younger patients, occurred later in the disease course, and were associated with less severe disease. Vesicular lesions often were found in middle-aged patients prior to the onset of other COVID-19 symptoms, and they were associated with intermediate disease severity. Urticarial and maculopapular lesions typically paralleled other COVID-19 symptoms in timing and were associated with more severe disease. Likewise, livedoid and necrotic lesions were associated with more severe disease; they occurred more frequently in older patients.⁶ Clinicians at Cleveland Clinic found similar cutaneous lesions in COVID-19 patients, including morbilliform rashes, acral purpura resembling perniosis, and livedoid lesions.³ Initial biopsies of these lesions pointed to viral exanthema and thrombotic vasculopathy as potential etiologies of morbilliform and livedoid lesions, respectively. Interestingly, patients may present with multiple cutaneous morphologies of the disease at the same time.³ The acral lesions ("COVID toes") have been popularized throughout the media and thus may be the best-known cutaneous manifestation of the disease at this time. New findings continuously arise, and further research is warranted as lesions that develop in hospitalized COVID-19 patients could be virus related or secondary to hospital-induced skin irritation, stressors, or medications.³ Importantly, clinicians should be aware of these cutaneous signs of COVID-19, especially when triaging patients.

Risk Reduction

The current health crisis could have a drastic impact on dermatology patients and providers. One factor that may increase COVID-19 risk in dermatology patients is immunosuppression. Many patients are on immunomodulators and biologics for skin conditions, which can cause immunosuppression directly and indirectly. Immunosuppression is a risk factor for severe disease in patients with COVID-19, so this population is at higher risk for serious infection.⁷ Telemedicine for nonemergent cases and follow-ups should be considered to decrease traffic in high-risk hospitals; to limit the number of people in waiting rooms; and to protect staff, providers, and patients alike.¹ Recommendations for teledermatology consultation during this time include the following: First, have patients take photographs of their skin lesions and send them remotely to the consulting physician. If the lesion is easily recognizable, treatment recommendations can be made remotely; if the diagnosis is ambiguous, the dermatologist can set up an in-person appointment.¹  

Personal Protective Equipment

Moreover, the current need to wear personal protective equipment (PPE) and wash hands frequently may lead to skin disease among health care providers. Facial rashes may arise from wearing masks and goggles, and repeated handwashing and wearing gloves may lead to hand dermatitis.⁸ One study examined adverse skin reactions among health care workers (N=322) during the SARS outbreak in 2003. More than one-third (35.5%) of staff members who wore masks regularly during the outbreak reported adverse skin reactions, including acne (59.6%), facial itching (51.4%), and rash (35.8%).⁸ The acne etiology likely is multifactorial. Masks increase heat and humidity in the covered facial region, which can cause acne flare-ups due to increased sebum production and Cutibacterium acnes growth.⁸ Additionally, tight N95 masks may occlude the pilosebaceous glands, causing acne to flare. In the SARS study, facial itchiness and rashes likely were due to irritant contact dermatitis to the N95 masks. All of the respondents with adverse skin reactions from masks developed them after using N95 masks; those who wore surgical masks did not report reactions.⁸ Because N95 masks are recommended for health care workers caring for patients with highly transmissible respiratory infections such as SARS and COVID-19, it will be difficult to avoid wearing them during the current crisis. For this reason, topical retinoids and topical benzoyl peroxide should be the first-line treatment of mask-induced acne, and moisturization and topical corticosteroids should be used for facial erythema. Additionally, 21.4% of respondents reported adverse skin reactions from latex gloves during the SARS outbreak, including dry skin, itchiness, rash, and wheals.⁸ These skin reactions may have been type I IgE-mediated hypersensitivity reactions or irritant contact dermatitis due to latex sensitization and frequent handwashing. No respondents reported skin reactions to plastic gloves.⁸ For this reason, health care providers should consider wearing plastic gloves in lieu of or under latex gloves to prevent hand dermatitis during this time. Moisturization, barrier creams, and topical corticosteroids also can help treat hand dermatitis. Frequently changing PPE may help prevent skin disease among the frontline health care workers,⁸ which posed a problem at the beginning of the COVID-19 outbreak as there was a PPE shortage. With industry and individuals coming together to make and donate PPE, it is now more widely available for our frontline providers.  

Financial Impact

Finally, the pandemic is having an immense financial impact on dermatology.⁹ At the onset of the outbreak, our role as health care providers was to help slow the spread of COVID-19; for this reason, most elective procedures were cancelled, and many outpatient clinics closed. Both elective procedures and outpatient visits are central to dermatology, so many dermatologists worked less or not at all during this time, leading to a loss of revenue. The goals of these measures were to reduce transmissibility of the disease, to prevent the health care system from being overwhelmed with critical COVID-19 cases, and to allocate resources to the frontline providers.⁹ Although these measures were beneficial for slowing the spread of disease, they were detrimental to some providers' and practices' financial stability. Many dermatology practices have begun to reopen with COVID-19 precautions in place. For example, practices are limiting the number of patients that can be in the office at one time, mandating temperature readings upon check-in, and requiring masks be worn throughout the entire visit. With continued recommendations for individuals to stay at home as much as possible, the number of patients being seen in dermatology clinics on a daily basis remains less than normal. One potential solution is telemedicine, which would allow patients' concerns to be addressed while keeping providers practicing with a normal patient volume during this time.⁹ Keeping providers financially afloat is vital for private practices to continue operating after the pandemic. Dermatology appointments are in high demand with long waiting lists during nonpandemic times; without dermatologists practicing at full capacity, there will be an accumulation of patients with dermatologic conditions with even longer waiting times after the pandemic. Telemedicine may help reduce this potential accumulation of patients and allow patients to be treated in a more timely manner while alleviating financial pressures for providers.

Final Thoughts

The COVID-19 pandemic has spread across the world, infecting millions of people. Although the trends have slowed, more than 106,100 cases are still being diagnosed daily according to the Johns Hopkins University Coronavirus Resource Center (https://coronavirus.jhu.edu/map.html). Patients with COVID-19 may present with a variety of cutaneous lesions. Wearing PPE to take care of COVID-19 patients may lead to skin irritation, so care should be taken to address these adverse skin reactions to maintain the safety of providers. Finally, dermatologists should consider telemedicine during this time to protect high-risk patients, prevent a postpandemic surge of patients, and alleviate financial stressors caused by COVID-19.

The Navajo people have dealt with adversity that has tested our strength and resilience since our creation. In Navajo culture, the Holy People or gods challenged us with Naayee (monsters). We endured and learned from each Naayee, hunger, and death to name a few adversities. The COVID-19 pandemic, or “Big Cough” (Dikos Nitsaa’igii -19 in Navajo language) is a monster confronting the Navajo today. It has had significant impact on our nation and people.

The Navajo have the most cases of the COVID-19 virus of any tribe in the United States, and numbers as of May 31, 2020, are 5,348, with 246 confirmed deaths.¹ The Navajo Nation, which once lagged behind New York, has reported the largest per-capita infection rate in the United States.

These devastating numbers, which might be leveling off, are associated with Navajo people having higher-than-average numbers of diabetes, heart disease, and cancer. This is compounded with 30%-40% of homes having no electricity or running water, and a poverty rate of about 38%.²

Geographical and cultural factors also contribute to the inability to gain a foothold in mitigating the number of cases. The Navajo Nation is the largest tribe in the United States, covering 27,000 square miles over an arid, red rock expanse with canyons and mountains. The population is over 250,000,³ and Navajo have traditionally lived in matrilineal clan units throughout the reservation, the size of West Virginia. The family traditional dwelling, called a “hogan,” often is clustered together. Multiple generations live together in these units. The COVID-19 virus inflicted many Navajo and rapidly spread to the elderly in these close-proximity living quarters.

Most Navajo live away from services and grocery stores and travel back and forth for food and water, which contributes to the virus rapidly being transmitted among the community members. Education aimed at curbing travel and spread of the virus was issued with curfews, commands to stay at home and keep social distance, and protect elders. The Navajo leadership and traditional medicine people, meanwhile, advised the people to follow their cultural values by caring for family and community members and providing a safe environment.
 

Resources are spread out

There are only 13 stores in this expansive reservation,⁴ so tribal members rely on traveling to border towns, such as Farmington and Gallup, N.M., Families usually travel to these towns on weekends to replenish food and supplies. There has been a cluster of cases in Gallup, N.M., so to reduce the numbers, the town shut itself off from outsiders – including the Navajo people coming to buy food, do laundry, and get water and feed for livestock. This has affected and stressed the Navajo further in attempting to access necessities.

Access to health care is already challenging because of lack of transportation and distance. This has made it more difficult to access COVID-19 testing and more challenging to get the results back. The Indian Health Service has been the designated health care system for the Navajo since 1955. The Treaty of Bosque Redondo, signed by the Navajo in 1868, included the provision of health care, as well as education in exchange for tracts of land, that included the Navajo homeland or Dinetah.⁵

The Indian Health Service provides care with hospitals and clinics throughout the reservation. Some of the IHS facilities have been taken over by the Navajo, so there are four Navajo tribally controlled hospitals, along with one private hospital. Coordination of care for a pandemic is, therefore, more challenging to coordinate. This contributes to problems with coordination of the health care, establishing alternate care sites, accessing personal protective equipment, and providing testing sites. The Navajo Nation Council is working hard to equitably distribute the $600 million from the CARES Act.⁶

Dealing with the pandemic is compromised by chronic underfunding from the U.S. government. The treaty obligation of the U.S. government is to provide health care to all federally recognized Native Americans. The IHS, which has been designated to provide that care for a tribal person, gets one-third the Medicare dollars for health care provided for a person in the general population.⁷ Health factors have led to the public health issues of poorly controlled diabetes, obesity, and coronary artery disease, which is related to this underfunding and the high rate of COVID-19 cases. Parts of the reservation are also exposed to high levels of pollution from oil and gas wells from the coal-fueled power plants. Those exposed to these high levels of pollutions have a higher than average number of cases of COVID-19, higher than in areas where the pollution is markedly lower.⁸

The Navajo are having to rely on the strength and resilience of traditional Navajo culture and philosophy to confront this monster, Dikos Nitsaa’igii’ 19. We have relied on Western medicine and its limited resources but now need to empower the strength from our traditional ways of knowing. We have used this knowledge in times of adversity for hundreds of years. The Navajo elders and medicine people have reminded us we have dealt with monsters and know how to endure hardship and be resilient. This helps to ameliorate mental health conditions, but there are still issues that remain challenging.

Those having the virus go through times of shortness of breath, which produces anxiety and panic. The risk of death adds further stress, and for a family-oriented culture, the need to isolate from family adds further stress. For the elderly and young people with more serious disease having to go to the hospital alone without family, often far from home, is so challenging. Connecting family by phone or social media with those stricken is essential to decrease anxiety and isolation. Those infected with the virus can learn breathing exercises, which can help the damage from the virus and decrease emotional activation and triggers. Specific breathing techniques can be taught by medical providers. An effective breathing technique to reduce anxiety is coherent breathing, which is done by inhaling 6 seconds and exhaling for 6 seconds without holding your breath. Behavioral health practitioners are available in the tribal and IHS mental health clinics to refer patients to therapy support to manage anxiety and are available by telemedicine. Many of these programs are offering social media informational sessions for the Navajo community. Navajo people often access traditional healing for protection prayers and ceremonies. Some of the tribal and IHS programs provide traditional counselors to talk to. The Navajo access healing that focuses on restoring balance to the body, mind, and spirit.

Taking action against the virus by social distancing, hand washing, and wearing masks can go a long way in reducing anxiety and fear about getting the virus. Resources to help the Navajo Nation are coming from all over the world, from as far as Ireland,⁹ Doctors Without Borders, ¹⁰ and University of San Francisco.¹¹

Two resources that provide relief on the reservation are the Navajo Relief Fund and United Natives.
 

References

1. Navaho Times. 2020 May 27.

2. Ingalls A et al. BMC Obes. 2019 May 6. doi: 10.1186/s40608-019-0233-9.

3. U.S. Census 2010, as reported by discovernavajo.com.

4. Gould C et al. “Addressing food insecurity on the Navajo reservation through sustainable greenhouses.” 2018 Aug.

5. Native Knowledge 360. Smithsonian Institution. “Bosque Redondo.”

6. Personal communication, Carl Roessel Slater, Navajo Nation Council delegate.

7. IHS Profile Fact Sheet.

8. Wu X et al. medRxiv. 2020 Apr 27.

9. Carroll R. ”Irish support for Native American COVID-19 relief highlights historic bond.” The Guardian. 2020 May 9.

10. Capatides C. “Doctors Without Borders dispatches team to the Navajo Nation” CBS News. 2020 May 11.

11. Weiler N. “UCSF sends second wave of health workers to Navajo Nation.” UCSF.edu. 2020 May 21.
 

Dr. Roessel is a Navajo board-certified psychiatrist practicing in Santa Fe, N.M., working with the local indigenous population. She has special expertise in cultural psychiatry; her childhood was spent growing up in the Navajo Nation with her grandfather, who was a Navajo medicine man. Her psychiatric practice focuses on integrating indigenous knowledge and principles. Dr. Roessel is a distinguished fellow of the American Psychiatric Association. She has no disclosures.

The Navajo people have dealt with adversity that has tested our strength and resilience since our creation. In Navajo culture, the Holy People or gods challenged us with Naayee (monsters). We endured and learned from each Naayee, hunger, and death to name a few adversities. The COVID-19 pandemic, or “Big Cough” (Dikos Nitsaa’igii -19 in Navajo language) is a monster confronting the Navajo today. It has had significant impact on our nation and people.

The Navajo have the most cases of the COVID-19 virus of any tribe in the United States, and numbers as of May 31, 2020, are 5,348, with 246 confirmed deaths.¹ The Navajo Nation, which once lagged behind New York, has reported the largest per-capita infection rate in the United States.

These devastating numbers, which might be leveling off, are associated with Navajo people having higher-than-average numbers of diabetes, heart disease, and cancer. This is compounded with 30%-40% of homes having no electricity or running water, and a poverty rate of about 38%.²

Geographical and cultural factors also contribute to the inability to gain a foothold in mitigating the number of cases. The Navajo Nation is the largest tribe in the United States, covering 27,000 square miles over an arid, red rock expanse with canyons and mountains. The population is over 250,000,³ and Navajo have traditionally lived in matrilineal clan units throughout the reservation, the size of West Virginia. The family traditional dwelling, called a “hogan,” often is clustered together. Multiple generations live together in these units. The COVID-19 virus inflicted many Navajo and rapidly spread to the elderly in these close-proximity living quarters.

Most Navajo live away from services and grocery stores and travel back and forth for food and water, which contributes to the virus rapidly being transmitted among the community members. Education aimed at curbing travel and spread of the virus was issued with curfews, commands to stay at home and keep social distance, and protect elders. The Navajo leadership and traditional medicine people, meanwhile, advised the people to follow their cultural values by caring for family and community members and providing a safe environment.
 

Resources are spread out

There are only 13 stores in this expansive reservation,⁴ so tribal members rely on traveling to border towns, such as Farmington and Gallup, N.M., Families usually travel to these towns on weekends to replenish food and supplies. There has been a cluster of cases in Gallup, N.M., so to reduce the numbers, the town shut itself off from outsiders – including the Navajo people coming to buy food, do laundry, and get water and feed for livestock. This has affected and stressed the Navajo further in attempting to access necessities.

Access to health care is already challenging because of lack of transportation and distance. This has made it more difficult to access COVID-19 testing and more challenging to get the results back. The Indian Health Service has been the designated health care system for the Navajo since 1955. The Treaty of Bosque Redondo, signed by the Navajo in 1868, included the provision of health care, as well as education in exchange for tracts of land, that included the Navajo homeland or Dinetah.⁵

The Indian Health Service provides care with hospitals and clinics throughout the reservation. Some of the IHS facilities have been taken over by the Navajo, so there are four Navajo tribally controlled hospitals, along with one private hospital. Coordination of care for a pandemic is, therefore, more challenging to coordinate. This contributes to problems with coordination of the health care, establishing alternate care sites, accessing personal protective equipment, and providing testing sites. The Navajo Nation Council is working hard to equitably distribute the $600 million from the CARES Act.⁶

Dealing with the pandemic is compromised by chronic underfunding from the U.S. government. The treaty obligation of the U.S. government is to provide health care to all federally recognized Native Americans. The IHS, which has been designated to provide that care for a tribal person, gets one-third the Medicare dollars for health care provided for a person in the general population.⁷ Health factors have led to the public health issues of poorly controlled diabetes, obesity, and coronary artery disease, which is related to this underfunding and the high rate of COVID-19 cases. Parts of the reservation are also exposed to high levels of pollution from oil and gas wells from the coal-fueled power plants. Those exposed to these high levels of pollutions have a higher than average number of cases of COVID-19, higher than in areas where the pollution is markedly lower.⁸

The Navajo are having to rely on the strength and resilience of traditional Navajo culture and philosophy to confront this monster, Dikos Nitsaa’igii’ 19. We have relied on Western medicine and its limited resources but now need to empower the strength from our traditional ways of knowing. We have used this knowledge in times of adversity for hundreds of years. The Navajo elders and medicine people have reminded us we have dealt with monsters and know how to endure hardship and be resilient. This helps to ameliorate mental health conditions, but there are still issues that remain challenging.

Those having the virus go through times of shortness of breath, which produces anxiety and panic. The risk of death adds further stress, and for a family-oriented culture, the need to isolate from family adds further stress. For the elderly and young people with more serious disease having to go to the hospital alone without family, often far from home, is so challenging. Connecting family by phone or social media with those stricken is essential to decrease anxiety and isolation. Those infected with the virus can learn breathing exercises, which can help the damage from the virus and decrease emotional activation and triggers. Specific breathing techniques can be taught by medical providers. An effective breathing technique to reduce anxiety is coherent breathing, which is done by inhaling 6 seconds and exhaling for 6 seconds without holding your breath. Behavioral health practitioners are available in the tribal and IHS mental health clinics to refer patients to therapy support to manage anxiety and are available by telemedicine. Many of these programs are offering social media informational sessions for the Navajo community. Navajo people often access traditional healing for protection prayers and ceremonies. Some of the tribal and IHS programs provide traditional counselors to talk to. The Navajo access healing that focuses on restoring balance to the body, mind, and spirit.

Taking action against the virus by social distancing, hand washing, and wearing masks can go a long way in reducing anxiety and fear about getting the virus. Resources to help the Navajo Nation are coming from all over the world, from as far as Ireland,⁹ Doctors Without Borders, ¹⁰ and University of San Francisco.¹¹

Two resources that provide relief on the reservation are the Navajo Relief Fund and United Natives.
 

References

1. Navaho Times. 2020 May 27.

2. Ingalls A et al. BMC Obes. 2019 May 6. doi: 10.1186/s40608-019-0233-9.

3. U.S. Census 2010, as reported by discovernavajo.com.

4. Gould C et al. “Addressing food insecurity on the Navajo reservation through sustainable greenhouses.” 2018 Aug.

5. Native Knowledge 360. Smithsonian Institution. “Bosque Redondo.”

6. Personal communication, Carl Roessel Slater, Navajo Nation Council delegate.

7. IHS Profile Fact Sheet.

8. Wu X et al. medRxiv. 2020 Apr 27.

9. Carroll R. ”Irish support for Native American COVID-19 relief highlights historic bond.” The Guardian. 2020 May 9.

10. Capatides C. “Doctors Without Borders dispatches team to the Navajo Nation” CBS News. 2020 May 11.

11. Weiler N. “UCSF sends second wave of health workers to Navajo Nation.” UCSF.edu. 2020 May 21.
 

Dr. Roessel is a Navajo board-certified psychiatrist practicing in Santa Fe, N.M., working with the local indigenous population. She has special expertise in cultural psychiatry; her childhood was spent growing up in the Navajo Nation with her grandfather, who was a Navajo medicine man. Her psychiatric practice focuses on integrating indigenous knowledge and principles. Dr. Roessel is a distinguished fellow of the American Psychiatric Association. She has no disclosures.

The Navajo people have dealt with adversity that has tested our strength and resilience since our creation. In Navajo culture, the Holy People or gods challenged us with Naayee (monsters). We endured and learned from each Naayee, hunger, and death to name a few adversities. The COVID-19 pandemic, or “Big Cough” (Dikos Nitsaa’igii -19 in Navajo language) is a monster confronting the Navajo today. It has had significant impact on our nation and people.

The Navajo have the most cases of the COVID-19 virus of any tribe in the United States, and numbers as of May 31, 2020, are 5,348, with 246 confirmed deaths.¹ The Navajo Nation, which once lagged behind New York, has reported the largest per-capita infection rate in the United States.

These devastating numbers, which might be leveling off, are associated with Navajo people having higher-than-average numbers of diabetes, heart disease, and cancer. This is compounded with 30%-40% of homes having no electricity or running water, and a poverty rate of about 38%.²

Geographical and cultural factors also contribute to the inability to gain a foothold in mitigating the number of cases. The Navajo Nation is the largest tribe in the United States, covering 27,000 square miles over an arid, red rock expanse with canyons and mountains. The population is over 250,000,³ and Navajo have traditionally lived in matrilineal clan units throughout the reservation, the size of West Virginia. The family traditional dwelling, called a “hogan,” often is clustered together. Multiple generations live together in these units. The COVID-19 virus inflicted many Navajo and rapidly spread to the elderly in these close-proximity living quarters.

Most Navajo live away from services and grocery stores and travel back and forth for food and water, which contributes to the virus rapidly being transmitted among the community members. Education aimed at curbing travel and spread of the virus was issued with curfews, commands to stay at home and keep social distance, and protect elders. The Navajo leadership and traditional medicine people, meanwhile, advised the people to follow their cultural values by caring for family and community members and providing a safe environment.
 

Resources are spread out

There are only 13 stores in this expansive reservation,⁴ so tribal members rely on traveling to border towns, such as Farmington and Gallup, N.M., Families usually travel to these towns on weekends to replenish food and supplies. There has been a cluster of cases in Gallup, N.M., so to reduce the numbers, the town shut itself off from outsiders – including the Navajo people coming to buy food, do laundry, and get water and feed for livestock. This has affected and stressed the Navajo further in attempting to access necessities.

Access to health care is already challenging because of lack of transportation and distance. This has made it more difficult to access COVID-19 testing and more challenging to get the results back. The Indian Health Service has been the designated health care system for the Navajo since 1955. The Treaty of Bosque Redondo, signed by the Navajo in 1868, included the provision of health care, as well as education in exchange for tracts of land, that included the Navajo homeland or Dinetah.⁵

The Indian Health Service provides care with hospitals and clinics throughout the reservation. Some of the IHS facilities have been taken over by the Navajo, so there are four Navajo tribally controlled hospitals, along with one private hospital. Coordination of care for a pandemic is, therefore, more challenging to coordinate. This contributes to problems with coordination of the health care, establishing alternate care sites, accessing personal protective equipment, and providing testing sites. The Navajo Nation Council is working hard to equitably distribute the $600 million from the CARES Act.⁶

Dealing with the pandemic is compromised by chronic underfunding from the U.S. government. The treaty obligation of the U.S. government is to provide health care to all federally recognized Native Americans. The IHS, which has been designated to provide that care for a tribal person, gets one-third the Medicare dollars for health care provided for a person in the general population.⁷ Health factors have led to the public health issues of poorly controlled diabetes, obesity, and coronary artery disease, which is related to this underfunding and the high rate of COVID-19 cases. Parts of the reservation are also exposed to high levels of pollution from oil and gas wells from the coal-fueled power plants. Those exposed to these high levels of pollutions have a higher than average number of cases of COVID-19, higher than in areas where the pollution is markedly lower.⁸

The Navajo are having to rely on the strength and resilience of traditional Navajo culture and philosophy to confront this monster, Dikos Nitsaa’igii’ 19. We have relied on Western medicine and its limited resources but now need to empower the strength from our traditional ways of knowing. We have used this knowledge in times of adversity for hundreds of years. The Navajo elders and medicine people have reminded us we have dealt with monsters and know how to endure hardship and be resilient. This helps to ameliorate mental health conditions, but there are still issues that remain challenging.

Those having the virus go through times of shortness of breath, which produces anxiety and panic. The risk of death adds further stress, and for a family-oriented culture, the need to isolate from family adds further stress. For the elderly and young people with more serious disease having to go to the hospital alone without family, often far from home, is so challenging. Connecting family by phone or social media with those stricken is essential to decrease anxiety and isolation. Those infected with the virus can learn breathing exercises, which can help the damage from the virus and decrease emotional activation and triggers. Specific breathing techniques can be taught by medical providers. An effective breathing technique to reduce anxiety is coherent breathing, which is done by inhaling 6 seconds and exhaling for 6 seconds without holding your breath. Behavioral health practitioners are available in the tribal and IHS mental health clinics to refer patients to therapy support to manage anxiety and are available by telemedicine. Many of these programs are offering social media informational sessions for the Navajo community. Navajo people often access traditional healing for protection prayers and ceremonies. Some of the tribal and IHS programs provide traditional counselors to talk to. The Navajo access healing that focuses on restoring balance to the body, mind, and spirit.

Taking action against the virus by social distancing, hand washing, and wearing masks can go a long way in reducing anxiety and fear about getting the virus. Resources to help the Navajo Nation are coming from all over the world, from as far as Ireland,⁹ Doctors Without Borders, ¹⁰ and University of San Francisco.¹¹

Two resources that provide relief on the reservation are the Navajo Relief Fund and United Natives.
 

References

1. Navaho Times. 2020 May 27.

2. Ingalls A et al. BMC Obes. 2019 May 6. doi: 10.1186/s40608-019-0233-9.

3. U.S. Census 2010, as reported by discovernavajo.com.

4. Gould C et al. “Addressing food insecurity on the Navajo reservation through sustainable greenhouses.” 2018 Aug.

5. Native Knowledge 360. Smithsonian Institution. “Bosque Redondo.”

6. Personal communication, Carl Roessel Slater, Navajo Nation Council delegate.

7. IHS Profile Fact Sheet.

8. Wu X et al. medRxiv. 2020 Apr 27.

9. Carroll R. ”Irish support for Native American COVID-19 relief highlights historic bond.” The Guardian. 2020 May 9.

10. Capatides C. “Doctors Without Borders dispatches team to the Navajo Nation” CBS News. 2020 May 11.

11. Weiler N. “UCSF sends second wave of health workers to Navajo Nation.” UCSF.edu. 2020 May 21.
 

Dr. Roessel is a Navajo board-certified psychiatrist practicing in Santa Fe, N.M., working with the local indigenous population. She has special expertise in cultural psychiatry; her childhood was spent growing up in the Navajo Nation with her grandfather, who was a Navajo medicine man. Her psychiatric practice focuses on integrating indigenous knowledge and principles. Dr. Roessel is a distinguished fellow of the American Psychiatric Association. She has no disclosures.

While many across the world who have access to Netflix and other streaming services have been on lockdown, the second season of Ricky Gervais’s dark comedy series, “After Life,” was released. The show will also return for a third season.

The setup of the show is that Lisa, the wife of Gervais’s protagonist, Tony, has died of breast cancer. Knowing that he would need help after, she made him a video guide to life without her, ranging from the mundane of a garbage day or house alarm to feeding their dog Brandy, tidying the house, and constantly reminding him to take care of himself.

When we first see Tony, he is not doing great on self-care, and he has turned his grief into a “super power” allowing himself to do or say whatever he wants to – from pretending to reprimand his dog for calling a man (who had just told him his dog should be on a lead) a “fat hairy nosy !#$%&” to getting into a name-calling exchange with a primary school child. He later (jokingly) threatens this same child with a hammer, so that the child will stop bullying his nephew.

Tony works as the head of features for the Tambury Gazette, the free local paper. The comedy is full of the hometown charm with Tony and the photographer, Lenny, visiting the homes of the interesting personalities who have called into the paper with their small-town newsworthy stories.

Colorful characters abound in his town, including Postman Pat, who pops in and helps himself to a bath. Tony develops an unlikely friendship with a sex worker whom he hires to clean his house – since she said that she would do “anything for 50 quid.”

Tony, in the midst of an existential crisis, visits his wife’s grave frequently. While there, he meets an older widow, Anne, who befriends him and offers good advice. (Anne is played by Penelope Wilton of The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel and Downton Abbey.)

Tony also dutifully visits his father daily at the Autumnal Leaves Care Home. His father has dementia and keeps asking about Lisa, forgetting that she is dead. Tony comments that if his father were a dog, he would euthanize him. In actuality, Tony’s dog, Brandy, stops Tony’s potential suicide throughout the series.

Matt, who is Tony’s brother-in-law (and boss at the paper) describes Tony as “devastated, suicidal.” Tony explains that he can do and say what he wants, and “then when it all gets too much, I can always kill myself.” By season 2, Matt’s wife has left him, and he, too, needs to see the psychiatrist.

The problem is the Tambury psychiatrist (played by Paul Kaye). General psychiatrists in film have been described in various ways by the late Irving Schneider, MD, including Dr. Evil, Dr. Wonderful, and Dr. Dippy types. “Dr. Dippy’s Sanitarium” was a 1906 silent film in which Dr. Dippy is seen lacking in common sense but being harmless overall. Based on the behaviors displayed in and out of therapy, the Tambury psychiatrist could never be described as Dr. Wonderful, leading to the Dr. Evil or the Dr. Dippy options. He is certainly using patients for his own personal gratification (like a Dr. Evil might) and is certainly lacking in common sense and acting “crazier or more foolish than his patients”¹ (like a Dr. Dippy). However, this psychiatrist may need a category all to himself.

Reference

1. Schneider I. Am J Psychiatry. 1987 Aug;144(8):966-1002.

While many across the world who have access to Netflix and other streaming services have been on lockdown, the second season of Ricky Gervais’s dark comedy series, “After Life,” was released. The show will also return for a third season.

The setup of the show is that Lisa, the wife of Gervais’s protagonist, Tony, has died of breast cancer. Knowing that he would need help after, she made him a video guide to life without her, ranging from the mundane of a garbage day or house alarm to feeding their dog Brandy, tidying the house, and constantly reminding him to take care of himself.

When we first see Tony, he is not doing great on self-care, and he has turned his grief into a “super power” allowing himself to do or say whatever he wants to – from pretending to reprimand his dog for calling a man (who had just told him his dog should be on a lead) a “fat hairy nosy !#$%&” to getting into a name-calling exchange with a primary school child. He later (jokingly) threatens this same child with a hammer, so that the child will stop bullying his nephew.

Tony works as the head of features for the Tambury Gazette, the free local paper. The comedy is full of the hometown charm with Tony and the photographer, Lenny, visiting the homes of the interesting personalities who have called into the paper with their small-town newsworthy stories.

Colorful characters abound in his town, including Postman Pat, who pops in and helps himself to a bath. Tony develops an unlikely friendship with a sex worker whom he hires to clean his house – since she said that she would do “anything for 50 quid.”

Tony, in the midst of an existential crisis, visits his wife’s grave frequently. While there, he meets an older widow, Anne, who befriends him and offers good advice. (Anne is played by Penelope Wilton of The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel and Downton Abbey.)

Tony also dutifully visits his father daily at the Autumnal Leaves Care Home. His father has dementia and keeps asking about Lisa, forgetting that she is dead. Tony comments that if his father were a dog, he would euthanize him. In actuality, Tony’s dog, Brandy, stops Tony’s potential suicide throughout the series.

Matt, who is Tony’s brother-in-law (and boss at the paper) describes Tony as “devastated, suicidal.” Tony explains that he can do and say what he wants, and “then when it all gets too much, I can always kill myself.” By season 2, Matt’s wife has left him, and he, too, needs to see the psychiatrist.

The problem is the Tambury psychiatrist (played by Paul Kaye). General psychiatrists in film have been described in various ways by the late Irving Schneider, MD, including Dr. Evil, Dr. Wonderful, and Dr. Dippy types. “Dr. Dippy’s Sanitarium” was a 1906 silent film in which Dr. Dippy is seen lacking in common sense but being harmless overall. Based on the behaviors displayed in and out of therapy, the Tambury psychiatrist could never be described as Dr. Wonderful, leading to the Dr. Evil or the Dr. Dippy options. He is certainly using patients for his own personal gratification (like a Dr. Evil might) and is certainly lacking in common sense and acting “crazier or more foolish than his patients”¹ (like a Dr. Dippy). However, this psychiatrist may need a category all to himself.

Reference

1. Schneider I. Am J Psychiatry. 1987 Aug;144(8):966-1002.

While many across the world who have access to Netflix and other streaming services have been on lockdown, the second season of Ricky Gervais’s dark comedy series, “After Life,” was released. The show will also return for a third season.

The setup of the show is that Lisa, the wife of Gervais’s protagonist, Tony, has died of breast cancer. Knowing that he would need help after, she made him a video guide to life without her, ranging from the mundane of a garbage day or house alarm to feeding their dog Brandy, tidying the house, and constantly reminding him to take care of himself.

When we first see Tony, he is not doing great on self-care, and he has turned his grief into a “super power” allowing himself to do or say whatever he wants to – from pretending to reprimand his dog for calling a man (who had just told him his dog should be on a lead) a “fat hairy nosy !#$%&” to getting into a name-calling exchange with a primary school child. He later (jokingly) threatens this same child with a hammer, so that the child will stop bullying his nephew.

Tony works as the head of features for the Tambury Gazette, the free local paper. The comedy is full of the hometown charm with Tony and the photographer, Lenny, visiting the homes of the interesting personalities who have called into the paper with their small-town newsworthy stories.

Colorful characters abound in his town, including Postman Pat, who pops in and helps himself to a bath. Tony develops an unlikely friendship with a sex worker whom he hires to clean his house – since she said that she would do “anything for 50 quid.”

Tony, in the midst of an existential crisis, visits his wife’s grave frequently. While there, he meets an older widow, Anne, who befriends him and offers good advice. (Anne is played by Penelope Wilton of The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel and Downton Abbey.)

Tony also dutifully visits his father daily at the Autumnal Leaves Care Home. His father has dementia and keeps asking about Lisa, forgetting that she is dead. Tony comments that if his father were a dog, he would euthanize him. In actuality, Tony’s dog, Brandy, stops Tony’s potential suicide throughout the series.

Matt, who is Tony’s brother-in-law (and boss at the paper) describes Tony as “devastated, suicidal.” Tony explains that he can do and say what he wants, and “then when it all gets too much, I can always kill myself.” By season 2, Matt’s wife has left him, and he, too, needs to see the psychiatrist.

The problem is the Tambury psychiatrist (played by Paul Kaye). General psychiatrists in film have been described in various ways by the late Irving Schneider, MD, including Dr. Evil, Dr. Wonderful, and Dr. Dippy types. “Dr. Dippy’s Sanitarium” was a 1906 silent film in which Dr. Dippy is seen lacking in common sense but being harmless overall. Based on the behaviors displayed in and out of therapy, the Tambury psychiatrist could never be described as Dr. Wonderful, leading to the Dr. Evil or the Dr. Dippy options. He is certainly using patients for his own personal gratification (like a Dr. Evil might) and is certainly lacking in common sense and acting “crazier or more foolish than his patients”¹ (like a Dr. Dippy). However, this psychiatrist may need a category all to himself.

Reference

1. Schneider I. Am J Psychiatry. 1987 Aug;144(8):966-1002.

Prior to the current crisis of COVID-19, I had a critical view of the direction of our psychiatric field. We have given up on complicated psychotherapies in favor of dispensing medications. We have given up on complicated diagnostic assessments in favor of simple self-rated symptoms questionnaires. Many of us even chose to give up on seeing patients face to face in favor of practicing telepsychiatry in the comfort of our homes. Some even promoted a future of psychiatry in which psychiatrists treated patients through large spreadsheets of evidence-based rating tools following evidence-based algorithms without even ever meeting the patients.

I do not view this problem as unique to psychiatry but rather as part of a larger trend in society. For the past couple of years, Vivek Murthy, MD, the former U.S. surgeon general, has popularized the idea that we are in a loneliness epidemic, saying, “We live in the most technologically connected age in the history of civilization, yet rates of loneliness have doubled since the 1980s.” Despite having enumerable means to reach other human beings, so many of us feel distant and out of touch with others. This loneliness has a measurable impact on our well-being with one study that states, “Actual and perceived social isolation are both associated with increased risk for early mortality.”

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, we were confronted with the largest challenge to our sense of connectedness in my lifetime. Throughout the past months, we have been asked to meet each other less frequently, do so through sterile means, and certainly not shake hands, hug, or embrace. The COVID-19 crisis has quickly made us all experts in telepsychiatry, remote work, and doing more with less. The COVID-19 crisis has asked many of us to put aside some of our human rituals like eating together, enjoying artistic experiences as a group, and touching, for the sake of saving lives.

For many, socially distancing has been a considerable added stressor – a stressor that continues to test humanity’s ability to be resilient. I am saddened by prior patients reaching out to seek comfort in these difficult times. I am touched by their desire to reconnect with someone they know, someone who feels familiar. I am surprised by the power of connection through phone and video calls. For some patients, despite the added burden, the current crisis has been an opportunity for their mental health and a reminder of the things that are important, including calling old friends and staying in touch with those who matter the most.

Yet, as the social restrictions continue, the stressors mount and the resilience becomes harder to find. Checking in on others can become a chore. The social norm to partake in fashion, and self-care, become harder to find. In some cases, even hygiene and our health take a side role. The weekly phone visits with a therapist can feel just as mundane and repetitive as life. Sleep becomes harder to find, and food loses its taste. At this point, we realize the humanity that we lost in all this.

In the past couple of months, we have all become much more aware of the fragility of connectedness. However, we should recognize that the impact was well on its way before the COVID-19 crisis. It is my opinion that psychiatry should champion the issue of human relations. I do not think that we need to wait for a new DSM diagnosis, an evidence-based paradigm, or a Food and Drug Administration–approved medication to do so. The COVID-19 crisis has rendered us all cognizant of the importance of relationships.

While it may be that psychiatry continues to foray in electronic means of communication, use of impersonal scales and diagnosis, as well as anonymized algorithmic treatment plans, we should also promote as much humanity as society and public health safety will permit. Getting dressed to see your psychiatrist, face to face, to have an open-ended conversation about the nature of one’s life has clearly become something precious and powerful that should be cherished and protected. My hope is the rules and mandates we are required to use during the pandemic today do not become a continued habit that result in further loneliness and disconnect. If we chose to, the lessons we learn today can, in fact, strengthen our appreciation and pursuit of human connection.
 

Dr. Badre is a forensic psychiatrist in San Diego and an expert in correctional mental health. He holds teaching positions at the University of California, San Diego, and the University of San Diego. He teaches medical education, psychopharmacology, ethics in psychiatry, and correctional care. Among his writings is chapter 7 in the book “Critical Psychiatry: Controversies and Clinical Implications” (Springer, 2019). He has no disclosures.

Prior to the current crisis of COVID-19, I had a critical view of the direction of our psychiatric field. We have given up on complicated psychotherapies in favor of dispensing medications. We have given up on complicated diagnostic assessments in favor of simple self-rated symptoms questionnaires. Many of us even chose to give up on seeing patients face to face in favor of practicing telepsychiatry in the comfort of our homes. Some even promoted a future of psychiatry in which psychiatrists treated patients through large spreadsheets of evidence-based rating tools following evidence-based algorithms without even ever meeting the patients.

I do not view this problem as unique to psychiatry but rather as part of a larger trend in society. For the past couple of years, Vivek Murthy, MD, the former U.S. surgeon general, has popularized the idea that we are in a loneliness epidemic, saying, “We live in the most technologically connected age in the history of civilization, yet rates of loneliness have doubled since the 1980s.” Despite having enumerable means to reach other human beings, so many of us feel distant and out of touch with others. This loneliness has a measurable impact on our well-being with one study that states, “Actual and perceived social isolation are both associated with increased risk for early mortality.”

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, we were confronted with the largest challenge to our sense of connectedness in my lifetime. Throughout the past months, we have been asked to meet each other less frequently, do so through sterile means, and certainly not shake hands, hug, or embrace. The COVID-19 crisis has quickly made us all experts in telepsychiatry, remote work, and doing more with less. The COVID-19 crisis has asked many of us to put aside some of our human rituals like eating together, enjoying artistic experiences as a group, and touching, for the sake of saving lives.

For many, socially distancing has been a considerable added stressor – a stressor that continues to test humanity’s ability to be resilient. I am saddened by prior patients reaching out to seek comfort in these difficult times. I am touched by their desire to reconnect with someone they know, someone who feels familiar. I am surprised by the power of connection through phone and video calls. For some patients, despite the added burden, the current crisis has been an opportunity for their mental health and a reminder of the things that are important, including calling old friends and staying in touch with those who matter the most.

Yet, as the social restrictions continue, the stressors mount and the resilience becomes harder to find. Checking in on others can become a chore. The social norm to partake in fashion, and self-care, become harder to find. In some cases, even hygiene and our health take a side role. The weekly phone visits with a therapist can feel just as mundane and repetitive as life. Sleep becomes harder to find, and food loses its taste. At this point, we realize the humanity that we lost in all this.

In the past couple of months, we have all become much more aware of the fragility of connectedness. However, we should recognize that the impact was well on its way before the COVID-19 crisis. It is my opinion that psychiatry should champion the issue of human relations. I do not think that we need to wait for a new DSM diagnosis, an evidence-based paradigm, or a Food and Drug Administration–approved medication to do so. The COVID-19 crisis has rendered us all cognizant of the importance of relationships.

While it may be that psychiatry continues to foray in electronic means of communication, use of impersonal scales and diagnosis, as well as anonymized algorithmic treatment plans, we should also promote as much humanity as society and public health safety will permit. Getting dressed to see your psychiatrist, face to face, to have an open-ended conversation about the nature of one’s life has clearly become something precious and powerful that should be cherished and protected. My hope is the rules and mandates we are required to use during the pandemic today do not become a continued habit that result in further loneliness and disconnect. If we chose to, the lessons we learn today can, in fact, strengthen our appreciation and pursuit of human connection.
 

Dr. Badre is a forensic psychiatrist in San Diego and an expert in correctional mental health. He holds teaching positions at the University of California, San Diego, and the University of San Diego. He teaches medical education, psychopharmacology, ethics in psychiatry, and correctional care. Among his writings is chapter 7 in the book “Critical Psychiatry: Controversies and Clinical Implications” (Springer, 2019). He has no disclosures.

Prior to the current crisis of COVID-19, I had a critical view of the direction of our psychiatric field. We have given up on complicated psychotherapies in favor of dispensing medications. We have given up on complicated diagnostic assessments in favor of simple self-rated symptoms questionnaires. Many of us even chose to give up on seeing patients face to face in favor of practicing telepsychiatry in the comfort of our homes. Some even promoted a future of psychiatry in which psychiatrists treated patients through large spreadsheets of evidence-based rating tools following evidence-based algorithms without even ever meeting the patients.

I do not view this problem as unique to psychiatry but rather as part of a larger trend in society. For the past couple of years, Vivek Murthy, MD, the former U.S. surgeon general, has popularized the idea that we are in a loneliness epidemic, saying, “We live in the most technologically connected age in the history of civilization, yet rates of loneliness have doubled since the 1980s.” Despite having enumerable means to reach other human beings, so many of us feel distant and out of touch with others. This loneliness has a measurable impact on our well-being with one study that states, “Actual and perceived social isolation are both associated with increased risk for early mortality.”

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, we were confronted with the largest challenge to our sense of connectedness in my lifetime. Throughout the past months, we have been asked to meet each other less frequently, do so through sterile means, and certainly not shake hands, hug, or embrace. The COVID-19 crisis has quickly made us all experts in telepsychiatry, remote work, and doing more with less. The COVID-19 crisis has asked many of us to put aside some of our human rituals like eating together, enjoying artistic experiences as a group, and touching, for the sake of saving lives.

For many, socially distancing has been a considerable added stressor – a stressor that continues to test humanity’s ability to be resilient. I am saddened by prior patients reaching out to seek comfort in these difficult times. I am touched by their desire to reconnect with someone they know, someone who feels familiar. I am surprised by the power of connection through phone and video calls. For some patients, despite the added burden, the current crisis has been an opportunity for their mental health and a reminder of the things that are important, including calling old friends and staying in touch with those who matter the most.

Yet, as the social restrictions continue, the stressors mount and the resilience becomes harder to find. Checking in on others can become a chore. The social norm to partake in fashion, and self-care, become harder to find. In some cases, even hygiene and our health take a side role. The weekly phone visits with a therapist can feel just as mundane and repetitive as life. Sleep becomes harder to find, and food loses its taste. At this point, we realize the humanity that we lost in all this.

In the past couple of months, we have all become much more aware of the fragility of connectedness. However, we should recognize that the impact was well on its way before the COVID-19 crisis. It is my opinion that psychiatry should champion the issue of human relations. I do not think that we need to wait for a new DSM diagnosis, an evidence-based paradigm, or a Food and Drug Administration–approved medication to do so. The COVID-19 crisis has rendered us all cognizant of the importance of relationships.

While it may be that psychiatry continues to foray in electronic means of communication, use of impersonal scales and diagnosis, as well as anonymized algorithmic treatment plans, we should also promote as much humanity as society and public health safety will permit. Getting dressed to see your psychiatrist, face to face, to have an open-ended conversation about the nature of one’s life has clearly become something precious and powerful that should be cherished and protected. My hope is the rules and mandates we are required to use during the pandemic today do not become a continued habit that result in further loneliness and disconnect. If we chose to, the lessons we learn today can, in fact, strengthen our appreciation and pursuit of human connection.
 

Dr. Badre is a forensic psychiatrist in San Diego and an expert in correctional mental health. He holds teaching positions at the University of California, San Diego, and the University of San Diego. He teaches medical education, psychopharmacology, ethics in psychiatry, and correctional care. Among his writings is chapter 7 in the book “Critical Psychiatry: Controversies and Clinical Implications” (Springer, 2019). He has no disclosures.

This morning, Megan A. Adams (a GI & Hepatology News Associate Editor and a Michigan faculty member) and I held an hour-long video conference with all of our Michigan GI fellows. Our four third-year fellows talked about their job search and employment plans for July. Three will join academic centers (UNC, University of Wisconsin, Henry Ford) and one will enter private practice (Atlanta Gastroenterology). I was glad to hear that all had been reassured that their positions were secure despite the COVID-19 impact. As I speak with colleagues across the country, all (whether health system physicians, academic faculty, or community gastroenterologists) are experiencing the financial, emotional, and operational effects of this pandemic. This is an experience that will define our professional careers.

As one of three chief clinical officers at Michigan Medicine, I am part of a four-person team that leads the faculty medical group and the ambulatory portion of our health system. Each of our segments (ambulatory, adult hospital, children’s hospital, and medical school) have targets for sustained cost reductions that total $400 million and Michigan Medicine (as published in the news) plans to reduce our workforce (nonfaculty) by 1,400. We have a hiring freeze, leaders are taking salary reductions, and we have instituted other painful, cost-saving measures. The physician leaders we hired just 12 months ago to oversee a new faculty group structure were thrust into a firestorm. Department chairs, division chiefs, nursing and administrative leaders all are having to make heart-wrenching cost-cutting decisions. Together, we have to make individual reductions in force or retain decisions about people we work with daily. This emotional toll will never truly heal for anyone involved.

There will be little time to recover. We are scrambling to reopen safely, with a planned process. We have a backlog of 12,000 surgeries and 8,000 endoscopy procedures that have been deferred. Eight-hundred children are behind in their well-child medical care, frightened patients are sitting home with critical aortic stenosis, dangerous hypertension, growing cancers, and other urgent medical needs. Private practices are facing the same issues, financial pressures, and emotional toll.

Anna Quindlen once said, “Grief is a whisper in the world, but a clamor within.” Recognize the toll this is taking and don’t be alone with your grief.

John I. Allen, MD, MBA, AGAF
Editor in Chief

This morning, Megan A. Adams (a GI & Hepatology News Associate Editor and a Michigan faculty member) and I held an hour-long video conference with all of our Michigan GI fellows. Our four third-year fellows talked about their job search and employment plans for July. Three will join academic centers (UNC, University of Wisconsin, Henry Ford) and one will enter private practice (Atlanta Gastroenterology). I was glad to hear that all had been reassured that their positions were secure despite the COVID-19 impact. As I speak with colleagues across the country, all (whether health system physicians, academic faculty, or community gastroenterologists) are experiencing the financial, emotional, and operational effects of this pandemic. This is an experience that will define our professional careers.

As one of three chief clinical officers at Michigan Medicine, I am part of a four-person team that leads the faculty medical group and the ambulatory portion of our health system. Each of our segments (ambulatory, adult hospital, children’s hospital, and medical school) have targets for sustained cost reductions that total $400 million and Michigan Medicine (as published in the news) plans to reduce our workforce (nonfaculty) by 1,400. We have a hiring freeze, leaders are taking salary reductions, and we have instituted other painful, cost-saving measures. The physician leaders we hired just 12 months ago to oversee a new faculty group structure were thrust into a firestorm. Department chairs, division chiefs, nursing and administrative leaders all are having to make heart-wrenching cost-cutting decisions. Together, we have to make individual reductions in force or retain decisions about people we work with daily. This emotional toll will never truly heal for anyone involved.

There will be little time to recover. We are scrambling to reopen safely, with a planned process. We have a backlog of 12,000 surgeries and 8,000 endoscopy procedures that have been deferred. Eight-hundred children are behind in their well-child medical care, frightened patients are sitting home with critical aortic stenosis, dangerous hypertension, growing cancers, and other urgent medical needs. Private practices are facing the same issues, financial pressures, and emotional toll.

Anna Quindlen once said, “Grief is a whisper in the world, but a clamor within.” Recognize the toll this is taking and don’t be alone with your grief.

John I. Allen, MD, MBA, AGAF
Editor in Chief

This morning, Megan A. Adams (a GI & Hepatology News Associate Editor and a Michigan faculty member) and I held an hour-long video conference with all of our Michigan GI fellows. Our four third-year fellows talked about their job search and employment plans for July. Three will join academic centers (UNC, University of Wisconsin, Henry Ford) and one will enter private practice (Atlanta Gastroenterology). I was glad to hear that all had been reassured that their positions were secure despite the COVID-19 impact. As I speak with colleagues across the country, all (whether health system physicians, academic faculty, or community gastroenterologists) are experiencing the financial, emotional, and operational effects of this pandemic. This is an experience that will define our professional careers.

As one of three chief clinical officers at Michigan Medicine, I am part of a four-person team that leads the faculty medical group and the ambulatory portion of our health system. Each of our segments (ambulatory, adult hospital, children’s hospital, and medical school) have targets for sustained cost reductions that total $400 million and Michigan Medicine (as published in the news) plans to reduce our workforce (nonfaculty) by 1,400. We have a hiring freeze, leaders are taking salary reductions, and we have instituted other painful, cost-saving measures. The physician leaders we hired just 12 months ago to oversee a new faculty group structure were thrust into a firestorm. Department chairs, division chiefs, nursing and administrative leaders all are having to make heart-wrenching cost-cutting decisions. Together, we have to make individual reductions in force or retain decisions about people we work with daily. This emotional toll will never truly heal for anyone involved.

There will be little time to recover. We are scrambling to reopen safely, with a planned process. We have a backlog of 12,000 surgeries and 8,000 endoscopy procedures that have been deferred. Eight-hundred children are behind in their well-child medical care, frightened patients are sitting home with critical aortic stenosis, dangerous hypertension, growing cancers, and other urgent medical needs. Private practices are facing the same issues, financial pressures, and emotional toll.

Anna Quindlen once said, “Grief is a whisper in the world, but a clamor within.” Recognize the toll this is taking and don’t be alone with your grief.

John I. Allen, MD, MBA, AGAF
Editor in Chief

On March 9 my team was given a directive by the chief medical officer of our health system. We were charged with opening a drive-through COVID-19 testing center for our community in just 2 days’ time. It seemed like an impossible task, involving the mobilization of people, processes, and technology at a scale and speed we had never before achieved. It turned out getting this done was impossible. In spite of our best efforts, we failed to meet the deadline – it actually took us 3 days. Still, by March 12, we had opened the doors on the first community testing site in our area and gained the attention of local and national news outlets for our accomplishment.

Now more than 2 months later, I’m quite proud of what our team was able to achieve for the health system, but I’m still quite frustrated at the state of COVID-19 testing nationwide – there’s simply not enough available, and there is tremendous variability in the reliability of the tests. In this column, we’d like to highlight some of the challenges we’ve faced and reflect on how the shortcomings of modern technology have once again proven that medicine is both a science and an art.
 

Our dangerous lack of preparation

Prior to the coronavirus pandemic, I had never considered surgical masks, face shields, and nasal swabs to be critical components of medical technology. My opinion quickly changed after opening our drive-through COVID-19 site. I now have a much greater appreciation for the importance of personal protective equipment and basic testing supplies.

I was shocked by how difficult obtaining it has been during the past few months. It seems that no one anticipated the possibility of a pandemic on this grand a scale, so stockpiles of equipment were depleted quickly and couldn’t be replenished. Also, most manufacturing occurs outside the United States, which creates additional barriers to controlling the supply chain. One need not look far to find stories of widespread price-gouging, black market racketeering, and even hijackings that have stood in the way of accessing the necessary supplies. Sadly, the lack of equipment is far from the only challenge we’ve faced. In some cases, it has been a mistrust of results that has prevented widespread testing and mitigation.
 

The risks of flying blind

When President Trump touted the introduction of a rapid COVID-19 test at the end of March, many people were excited. Promising positive results in as few as 5 minutes, the assay was granted an Emergency Use Authorization (EUA) by the Food and Drug Administration in order to expedite its availability in the market. According to the FDA’s website, an EUA allows “unapproved medical products or unapproved uses of approved medical products to be used in an emergency to diagnose, treat, or prevent serious or life-threatening diseases or conditions.” This rapid (though untested) approval was all that many health care providers needed to hear – immediately hospitals and physicians scrambled to get their hands on the testing devices. Unfortunately, on May 14th, the FDA issued a press release that raised concerns about that same test because it seemed to be reporting a high number of false-negative results. Just as quickly as the devices had been adopted, health care providers began backing away from them in favor of other assays, and a serious truth about COVID-19 testing was revealed: In many ways, we’re flying blind.

Laboratory manufacturers have been working overtime to create assays for SARS-CoV-2 (the coronavirus that causes COVID-19) and have used different technologies for detection. The most commonly used are polymerase chain reaction (PCR) tests. In these assays, viral RNA is converted to DNA by reverse transcriptase, then amplified through the addition of primers that enable detection. PCR technology has been available for years and is a reliable method for identifying DNA and RNA, but the required heating and cooling process takes time and results can take several hours to return. To address this and expedite testing, other methods of detection have been tried, such as the loop-mediated isothermal amplification (LAMP) technique employed by the rapid assay mentioned above. Regardless of methodology, all laboratory tests have one thing in common: None of them is perfect.

Every assay has a different level of reliability. When screening for a disease such as COVID-19, we are particularly interested in a test’s sensitivity (that is, it’s ability to detect disease); we’d love such a screening test to be 100% sensitive and thereby not miss a single case. In truth, no test’s sensitivity is 100%, and in this particular case even the best assays only score around 98%. This means that out of every 100 patients with COVID-19 who are evaluated, two might test negative for the virus. In a pandemic this can have dire consequences, so health care providers – unable to fully trust their instruments – must employ clinical acumen and years of experience to navigate these cloudy skies. We are hopeful that additional tools will complement our current methods, but with new assays also come new questions.
 

Is anyone safe?

We receive regular questions from physicians about the value of antibody testing, but it’s not yet clear how best to respond. While the assays seem to be reliable, the utility of the results are still ill defined. Antibodies to SARS-CoV-2 (both IgG and IgM) appear to peak about 2-3 weeks after symptom onset, but we don’t yet know if the presence of those antibodies confers long-term immunity. Therefore, patients should not use the information to change their masking or social-distancing practices, nor should they presume that they are safe from becoming reinfected with COVID-19. While new research looks promising, there are still too many unknowns to be able to confidently reassure providers or patients of the true value of antibody testing. This underscores our final point: Medicine remains an art.

As we are regularly reminded, we’ll never fully anticipate the challenges or barriers to success, and technology will never replace the value of clinical judgment and human experience. While the situation is unsettling in many ways, we are reassured and encouraged by the role we still get to play in keeping our patients healthy in this health care crisis, and we’ll continue to do so through whatever the future holds.
 

Dr. Notte is a family physician and chief medical officer of Abington Lansdale (Pa.) Hospital - Jefferson Health. Follow him on Twitter (@doctornotte). Dr. Skolnik is professor of family and community medicine at Sidney Kimmel Medical College, Philadelphia, and associate director of the family medicine residency program at Abington (Pa.) Hospital–Jefferson Health. They have no conflicts related to the content of this piece.
 

On March 9 my team was given a directive by the chief medical officer of our health system. We were charged with opening a drive-through COVID-19 testing center for our community in just 2 days’ time. It seemed like an impossible task, involving the mobilization of people, processes, and technology at a scale and speed we had never before achieved. It turned out getting this done was impossible. In spite of our best efforts, we failed to meet the deadline – it actually took us 3 days. Still, by March 12, we had opened the doors on the first community testing site in our area and gained the attention of local and national news outlets for our accomplishment.

Now more than 2 months later, I’m quite proud of what our team was able to achieve for the health system, but I’m still quite frustrated at the state of COVID-19 testing nationwide – there’s simply not enough available, and there is tremendous variability in the reliability of the tests. In this column, we’d like to highlight some of the challenges we’ve faced and reflect on how the shortcomings of modern technology have once again proven that medicine is both a science and an art.
 

Our dangerous lack of preparation

Prior to the coronavirus pandemic, I had never considered surgical masks, face shields, and nasal swabs to be critical components of medical technology. My opinion quickly changed after opening our drive-through COVID-19 site. I now have a much greater appreciation for the importance of personal protective equipment and basic testing supplies.

I was shocked by how difficult obtaining it has been during the past few months. It seems that no one anticipated the possibility of a pandemic on this grand a scale, so stockpiles of equipment were depleted quickly and couldn’t be replenished. Also, most manufacturing occurs outside the United States, which creates additional barriers to controlling the supply chain. One need not look far to find stories of widespread price-gouging, black market racketeering, and even hijackings that have stood in the way of accessing the necessary supplies. Sadly, the lack of equipment is far from the only challenge we’ve faced. In some cases, it has been a mistrust of results that has prevented widespread testing and mitigation.
 

The risks of flying blind

When President Trump touted the introduction of a rapid COVID-19 test at the end of March, many people were excited. Promising positive results in as few as 5 minutes, the assay was granted an Emergency Use Authorization (EUA) by the Food and Drug Administration in order to expedite its availability in the market. According to the FDA’s website, an EUA allows “unapproved medical products or unapproved uses of approved medical products to be used in an emergency to diagnose, treat, or prevent serious or life-threatening diseases or conditions.” This rapid (though untested) approval was all that many health care providers needed to hear – immediately hospitals and physicians scrambled to get their hands on the testing devices. Unfortunately, on May 14th, the FDA issued a press release that raised concerns about that same test because it seemed to be reporting a high number of false-negative results. Just as quickly as the devices had been adopted, health care providers began backing away from them in favor of other assays, and a serious truth about COVID-19 testing was revealed: In many ways, we’re flying blind.

Laboratory manufacturers have been working overtime to create assays for SARS-CoV-2 (the coronavirus that causes COVID-19) and have used different technologies for detection. The most commonly used are polymerase chain reaction (PCR) tests. In these assays, viral RNA is converted to DNA by reverse transcriptase, then amplified through the addition of primers that enable detection. PCR technology has been available for years and is a reliable method for identifying DNA and RNA, but the required heating and cooling process takes time and results can take several hours to return. To address this and expedite testing, other methods of detection have been tried, such as the loop-mediated isothermal amplification (LAMP) technique employed by the rapid assay mentioned above. Regardless of methodology, all laboratory tests have one thing in common: None of them is perfect.

Every assay has a different level of reliability. When screening for a disease such as COVID-19, we are particularly interested in a test’s sensitivity (that is, it’s ability to detect disease); we’d love such a screening test to be 100% sensitive and thereby not miss a single case. In truth, no test’s sensitivity is 100%, and in this particular case even the best assays only score around 98%. This means that out of every 100 patients with COVID-19 who are evaluated, two might test negative for the virus. In a pandemic this can have dire consequences, so health care providers – unable to fully trust their instruments – must employ clinical acumen and years of experience to navigate these cloudy skies. We are hopeful that additional tools will complement our current methods, but with new assays also come new questions.
 

Is anyone safe?

We receive regular questions from physicians about the value of antibody testing, but it’s not yet clear how best to respond. While the assays seem to be reliable, the utility of the results are still ill defined. Antibodies to SARS-CoV-2 (both IgG and IgM) appear to peak about 2-3 weeks after symptom onset, but we don’t yet know if the presence of those antibodies confers long-term immunity. Therefore, patients should not use the information to change their masking or social-distancing practices, nor should they presume that they are safe from becoming reinfected with COVID-19. While new research looks promising, there are still too many unknowns to be able to confidently reassure providers or patients of the true value of antibody testing. This underscores our final point: Medicine remains an art.

As we are regularly reminded, we’ll never fully anticipate the challenges or barriers to success, and technology will never replace the value of clinical judgment and human experience. While the situation is unsettling in many ways, we are reassured and encouraged by the role we still get to play in keeping our patients healthy in this health care crisis, and we’ll continue to do so through whatever the future holds.
 

Dr. Notte is a family physician and chief medical officer of Abington Lansdale (Pa.) Hospital - Jefferson Health. Follow him on Twitter (@doctornotte). Dr. Skolnik is professor of family and community medicine at Sidney Kimmel Medical College, Philadelphia, and associate director of the family medicine residency program at Abington (Pa.) Hospital–Jefferson Health. They have no conflicts related to the content of this piece.
 

On March 9 my team was given a directive by the chief medical officer of our health system. We were charged with opening a drive-through COVID-19 testing center for our community in just 2 days’ time. It seemed like an impossible task, involving the mobilization of people, processes, and technology at a scale and speed we had never before achieved. It turned out getting this done was impossible. In spite of our best efforts, we failed to meet the deadline – it actually took us 3 days. Still, by March 12, we had opened the doors on the first community testing site in our area and gained the attention of local and national news outlets for our accomplishment.

Now more than 2 months later, I’m quite proud of what our team was able to achieve for the health system, but I’m still quite frustrated at the state of COVID-19 testing nationwide – there’s simply not enough available, and there is tremendous variability in the reliability of the tests. In this column, we’d like to highlight some of the challenges we’ve faced and reflect on how the shortcomings of modern technology have once again proven that medicine is both a science and an art.
 

Our dangerous lack of preparation

Prior to the coronavirus pandemic, I had never considered surgical masks, face shields, and nasal swabs to be critical components of medical technology. My opinion quickly changed after opening our drive-through COVID-19 site. I now have a much greater appreciation for the importance of personal protective equipment and basic testing supplies.

I was shocked by how difficult obtaining it has been during the past few months. It seems that no one anticipated the possibility of a pandemic on this grand a scale, so stockpiles of equipment were depleted quickly and couldn’t be replenished. Also, most manufacturing occurs outside the United States, which creates additional barriers to controlling the supply chain. One need not look far to find stories of widespread price-gouging, black market racketeering, and even hijackings that have stood in the way of accessing the necessary supplies. Sadly, the lack of equipment is far from the only challenge we’ve faced. In some cases, it has been a mistrust of results that has prevented widespread testing and mitigation.
 

The risks of flying blind

When President Trump touted the introduction of a rapid COVID-19 test at the end of March, many people were excited. Promising positive results in as few as 5 minutes, the assay was granted an Emergency Use Authorization (EUA) by the Food and Drug Administration in order to expedite its availability in the market. According to the FDA’s website, an EUA allows “unapproved medical products or unapproved uses of approved medical products to be used in an emergency to diagnose, treat, or prevent serious or life-threatening diseases or conditions.” This rapid (though untested) approval was all that many health care providers needed to hear – immediately hospitals and physicians scrambled to get their hands on the testing devices. Unfortunately, on May 14th, the FDA issued a press release that raised concerns about that same test because it seemed to be reporting a high number of false-negative results. Just as quickly as the devices had been adopted, health care providers began backing away from them in favor of other assays, and a serious truth about COVID-19 testing was revealed: In many ways, we’re flying blind.

Laboratory manufacturers have been working overtime to create assays for SARS-CoV-2 (the coronavirus that causes COVID-19) and have used different technologies for detection. The most commonly used are polymerase chain reaction (PCR) tests. In these assays, viral RNA is converted to DNA by reverse transcriptase, then amplified through the addition of primers that enable detection. PCR technology has been available for years and is a reliable method for identifying DNA and RNA, but the required heating and cooling process takes time and results can take several hours to return. To address this and expedite testing, other methods of detection have been tried, such as the loop-mediated isothermal amplification (LAMP) technique employed by the rapid assay mentioned above. Regardless of methodology, all laboratory tests have one thing in common: None of them is perfect.

Every assay has a different level of reliability. When screening for a disease such as COVID-19, we are particularly interested in a test’s sensitivity (that is, it’s ability to detect disease); we’d love such a screening test to be 100% sensitive and thereby not miss a single case. In truth, no test’s sensitivity is 100%, and in this particular case even the best assays only score around 98%. This means that out of every 100 patients with COVID-19 who are evaluated, two might test negative for the virus. In a pandemic this can have dire consequences, so health care providers – unable to fully trust their instruments – must employ clinical acumen and years of experience to navigate these cloudy skies. We are hopeful that additional tools will complement our current methods, but with new assays also come new questions.
 

Is anyone safe?

We receive regular questions from physicians about the value of antibody testing, but it’s not yet clear how best to respond. While the assays seem to be reliable, the utility of the results are still ill defined. Antibodies to SARS-CoV-2 (both IgG and IgM) appear to peak about 2-3 weeks after symptom onset, but we don’t yet know if the presence of those antibodies confers long-term immunity. Therefore, patients should not use the information to change their masking or social-distancing practices, nor should they presume that they are safe from becoming reinfected with COVID-19. While new research looks promising, there are still too many unknowns to be able to confidently reassure providers or patients of the true value of antibody testing. This underscores our final point: Medicine remains an art.

As we are regularly reminded, we’ll never fully anticipate the challenges or barriers to success, and technology will never replace the value of clinical judgment and human experience. While the situation is unsettling in many ways, we are reassured and encouraged by the role we still get to play in keeping our patients healthy in this health care crisis, and we’ll continue to do so through whatever the future holds.
 

Dr. Notte is a family physician and chief medical officer of Abington Lansdale (Pa.) Hospital - Jefferson Health. Follow him on Twitter (@doctornotte). Dr. Skolnik is professor of family and community medicine at Sidney Kimmel Medical College, Philadelphia, and associate director of the family medicine residency program at Abington (Pa.) Hospital–Jefferson Health. They have no conflicts related to the content of this piece.
 

One of hardest parts of being an obstetrician is taking care of patients who experience a stillbirth. I am very comfortable with the care of a grieving patient and I always have been, although I am not sure why. I have a model of care that I have evolved in my 16 years since medical school graduation. This model is not based on formal instruction because I received none, but on my natural instincts of what a grieving mom and her family need to hear and receive in the worst moments of their lives. All obstetrics providers grieve the loss of the baby, but often not with the patient but on our own. We may do this because we want to respect the patient’s privacy or because we are not sure of the words to say. I hope I can provide some guidance for those who struggle with what to do.

SDI Productions/E+

I delivered my first stillborn baby as a third-year medical student. My mentor, a chief resident, saw something in me and encouraged me to care for this mother. She had twins and one baby was still living, but the prognosis was poor since this was the surviving twin from a monochorionic diamniotic pregnancy. On the day of the mom’s induction, I just pulled up a chair and talked with her. We talked about her life, the loss of the first baby several weeks before, and her hope that her surviving son would be okay. She felt so bonded to me that she refused to push until I was there. Her delivery is still firm in my mind. I still remember 17 years later the room she delivered in.

My first loss (stillbirth) as a resident was my intern year – a beautiful baby named Jude, who was stillborn at 39 weeks. After delivering Jude, I asked the family about the funeral arrangements. Three days later, I attended his funeral. I looked all around for the mother’s attending doctors but none of them were there. I remember thinking then that it was a given that they would be there, but now I know that it is rare. I also learned a lot about the grief a stillborn baby brings while listening to Jude’s father’s eulogy. He talked about how Jude would never bake cookies with Aunt Jane, ride the slide with cousin Chris, or put on a yellow backpack and ride the bus on the first day of school. Because of this eulogy, I understood this unique kind of grief that these losses bring early in my training.

I delivered many losses in my residency. The attendings left soon after the birth and I stayed behind with the family. I sat and counseled the families, and I helped them make memories. I realized that to care for these patients, I would need to trust my instincts because there was no formal and little informal training on how to care for families who lost their babies.

Once I completed residency, I was really able to do my “thing.” At loss deliveries, I was able to model for residents my method of care. I showed them that families want and need attention, support, and guidance. I modeled for them how to deliver and greet the baby. That it is not necessary to leave the room right after the birth, and it is okay to grieve and help families meet their babies. I modeled commenting on the baby’s features, on who they looked like. I showed how laughing about how the baby has grandma’s nose is okay. I showed them that it is okay to ask to hold and get a picture taken with the baby. I showed them that these are the only moments these families will get with their babies, and it is our job to help them do this. The family will have many moments alone in the days and weeks to come. They need our support and guidance. It is a part of being an ob.gyn. to care for families after stillbirths, and we do not want our patients to feel abandoned during this time by those they entrust to care for them.

I also was able to create a model for aftercare. I call my families often after they go home. Sometimes I catch them in the anger stage of the grief process and I let them vent. I work through this with them, and I answer their hardest and sometimes accusatory questions regarding care leading up to the diagnosis. I am not saying this is easy for me or for them. I think fear of these tough conversations is a barrier to giving the emotional support that these families need. I work through this with them in an honest and open manner. I also call to check on the patients as much as possible, especially on anniversaries. I am not saying that all providers must follow this model. This is my passion and is natural for me, but data clearly show that the standard of emotional care we provide is not what patients need at this time. Thankfully, there is an amazing resource of grief counselors, social workers, online resources, and support groups for these families to help them get through the tragedy. These resources, however, are not the provider who spent this precious time with them and their beloved baby, and our emotional support is invaluable.

This past year has been very eventful for me. One of my patients delivered a new baby, after a prior loss, and asked if we could teach together. I had mentioned that everything I do with stillbirths is not based on my residency education, but on my experience and instinctual feeling of what families need. She knew from friends in bereavement circles that they felt that their care was different. We started teaching last summer and have done 10 training sessions to date; hopefully we will continue to teach new groups of nurses, residents, medical students, doulas, and physician assistant students each year.

This year also was eventful because I discovered the Star Legacy Foundation, a national not-for-profit organization with the goal of spreading awareness, education, and prevention regarding stillbirth. I attended their 2019 Summit in Minnesota. I thought I would meet many more doctors and midwives like myself, and I would learn even more about care for bereaved patients. However, that summer I learned preventing stillbirth may be possible from the then chief medical officer of Scotland, Catherine Calderwood, MB ChB. She talked about the preventive protocol she had created that had reduced the stillbirth rate by 23%. Because I was one of only five ob.gyn. nonspeaker attendees in a room of 400, I realized I had a real opportunity to try to bring some model for prevention to the United States. I brought the U.K. protocol to my practice and we have been doing it now for 9 months. (See “Decreased fetal movement: Time to educate patients and ourselves” at mdedge.com/pediatrics.)

I have had a year to think about why the U.S. stillbirth rate is higher than that of many high-income nations and why we have the lowest annual rate of reduction in the 2016 Lancet series among high resource nations.¹ I think it is due to lack of education and training for providers in stillbirth prevention and care, which has led to further marginalization and stigmatization of bereaved moms. This has pushed them further into the shadows and makes it taboo to share their stories. It is providers being fearful to even mention to patients that stillbirth still happens. It is the lack of any protocol on how to educate patients and providers about fetal movement, and what to do if pregnant women complain about a decrease or change in fetal movement. I think a lot of this stems from an innate discomfort that obstetric providers have in the care of these patients. That if women felt cared for and empowered to tell their stories, there would be more efforts at stillbirth education and prevention.

I often think of an experience that the founder of Star Legacy, Lindsey Wimmer, experienced when she lost her son, Garrett, 16 years ago. She told a story in the documentary, “Don’t talk about the baby.” She tells that on the first night of the induction, the nurse came in and told her that the attending wanted to turn off the oxytocin so “she could get her rest.” I heard this and immediately knew the attending’s true reason for turning off the oxytocin. Lindsey then said she knew it was because the attending did not want to wake up to deliver a dead baby. I wrote Lindsey that day and told her I completely agreed and apologized on behalf of my profession for that care. She wrote me back that she had waited 16 years to have a provider validate her feelings about this. I told her I think her doctor was fearful and uncomfortable with this birth and was avoiding it, but I believe with better education and training this can change. I want to deliver babies like Garrett during my shift, because it is giving this vital care that reminds me why I became a doctor in the first place.

Dr. Florescue is an ob.gyn. in private practice at Women Gynecology and Childbirth Associates in Rochester, N.Y. She delivers babies at Highland Hospital in Rochester. She has no relevant financial disclosures. Email her a [email protected].

References

1. “Stillbirths 2016: ending preventable stillbirths.” Series from The Lancet journals. Published: Jan. 20, 2016.

2. BMC Pregnancy Childbirth. 2012 Nov 27. doi: 10.1186/1471-2393-12-137.

One of hardest parts of being an obstetrician is taking care of patients who experience a stillbirth. I am very comfortable with the care of a grieving patient and I always have been, although I am not sure why. I have a model of care that I have evolved in my 16 years since medical school graduation. This model is not based on formal instruction because I received none, but on my natural instincts of what a grieving mom and her family need to hear and receive in the worst moments of their lives. All obstetrics providers grieve the loss of the baby, but often not with the patient but on our own. We may do this because we want to respect the patient’s privacy or because we are not sure of the words to say. I hope I can provide some guidance for those who struggle with what to do.

SDI Productions/E+

I delivered my first stillborn baby as a third-year medical student. My mentor, a chief resident, saw something in me and encouraged me to care for this mother. She had twins and one baby was still living, but the prognosis was poor since this was the surviving twin from a monochorionic diamniotic pregnancy. On the day of the mom’s induction, I just pulled up a chair and talked with her. We talked about her life, the loss of the first baby several weeks before, and her hope that her surviving son would be okay. She felt so bonded to me that she refused to push until I was there. Her delivery is still firm in my mind. I still remember 17 years later the room she delivered in.

My first loss (stillbirth) as a resident was my intern year – a beautiful baby named Jude, who was stillborn at 39 weeks. After delivering Jude, I asked the family about the funeral arrangements. Three days later, I attended his funeral. I looked all around for the mother’s attending doctors but none of them were there. I remember thinking then that it was a given that they would be there, but now I know that it is rare. I also learned a lot about the grief a stillborn baby brings while listening to Jude’s father’s eulogy. He talked about how Jude would never bake cookies with Aunt Jane, ride the slide with cousin Chris, or put on a yellow backpack and ride the bus on the first day of school. Because of this eulogy, I understood this unique kind of grief that these losses bring early in my training.

I delivered many losses in my residency. The attendings left soon after the birth and I stayed behind with the family. I sat and counseled the families, and I helped them make memories. I realized that to care for these patients, I would need to trust my instincts because there was no formal and little informal training on how to care for families who lost their babies.

Once I completed residency, I was really able to do my “thing.” At loss deliveries, I was able to model for residents my method of care. I showed them that families want and need attention, support, and guidance. I modeled for them how to deliver and greet the baby. That it is not necessary to leave the room right after the birth, and it is okay to grieve and help families meet their babies. I modeled commenting on the baby’s features, on who they looked like. I showed how laughing about how the baby has grandma’s nose is okay. I showed them that it is okay to ask to hold and get a picture taken with the baby. I showed them that these are the only moments these families will get with their babies, and it is our job to help them do this. The family will have many moments alone in the days and weeks to come. They need our support and guidance. It is a part of being an ob.gyn. to care for families after stillbirths, and we do not want our patients to feel abandoned during this time by those they entrust to care for them.

I also was able to create a model for aftercare. I call my families often after they go home. Sometimes I catch them in the anger stage of the grief process and I let them vent. I work through this with them, and I answer their hardest and sometimes accusatory questions regarding care leading up to the diagnosis. I am not saying this is easy for me or for them. I think fear of these tough conversations is a barrier to giving the emotional support that these families need. I work through this with them in an honest and open manner. I also call to check on the patients as much as possible, especially on anniversaries. I am not saying that all providers must follow this model. This is my passion and is natural for me, but data clearly show that the standard of emotional care we provide is not what patients need at this time. Thankfully, there is an amazing resource of grief counselors, social workers, online resources, and support groups for these families to help them get through the tragedy. These resources, however, are not the provider who spent this precious time with them and their beloved baby, and our emotional support is invaluable.

This past year has been very eventful for me. One of my patients delivered a new baby, after a prior loss, and asked if we could teach together. I had mentioned that everything I do with stillbirths is not based on my residency education, but on my experience and instinctual feeling of what families need. She knew from friends in bereavement circles that they felt that their care was different. We started teaching last summer and have done 10 training sessions to date; hopefully we will continue to teach new groups of nurses, residents, medical students, doulas, and physician assistant students each year.

This year also was eventful because I discovered the Star Legacy Foundation, a national not-for-profit organization with the goal of spreading awareness, education, and prevention regarding stillbirth. I attended their 2019 Summit in Minnesota. I thought I would meet many more doctors and midwives like myself, and I would learn even more about care for bereaved patients. However, that summer I learned preventing stillbirth may be possible from the then chief medical officer of Scotland, Catherine Calderwood, MB ChB. She talked about the preventive protocol she had created that had reduced the stillbirth rate by 23%. Because I was one of only five ob.gyn. nonspeaker attendees in a room of 400, I realized I had a real opportunity to try to bring some model for prevention to the United States. I brought the U.K. protocol to my practice and we have been doing it now for 9 months. (See “Decreased fetal movement: Time to educate patients and ourselves” at mdedge.com/pediatrics.)

I have had a year to think about why the U.S. stillbirth rate is higher than that of many high-income nations and why we have the lowest annual rate of reduction in the 2016 Lancet series among high resource nations.¹ I think it is due to lack of education and training for providers in stillbirth prevention and care, which has led to further marginalization and stigmatization of bereaved moms. This has pushed them further into the shadows and makes it taboo to share their stories. It is providers being fearful to even mention to patients that stillbirth still happens. It is the lack of any protocol on how to educate patients and providers about fetal movement, and what to do if pregnant women complain about a decrease or change in fetal movement. I think a lot of this stems from an innate discomfort that obstetric providers have in the care of these patients. That if women felt cared for and empowered to tell their stories, there would be more efforts at stillbirth education and prevention.

I often think of an experience that the founder of Star Legacy, Lindsey Wimmer, experienced when she lost her son, Garrett, 16 years ago. She told a story in the documentary, “Don’t talk about the baby.” She tells that on the first night of the induction, the nurse came in and told her that the attending wanted to turn off the oxytocin so “she could get her rest.” I heard this and immediately knew the attending’s true reason for turning off the oxytocin. Lindsey then said she knew it was because the attending did not want to wake up to deliver a dead baby. I wrote Lindsey that day and told her I completely agreed and apologized on behalf of my profession for that care. She wrote me back that she had waited 16 years to have a provider validate her feelings about this. I told her I think her doctor was fearful and uncomfortable with this birth and was avoiding it, but I believe with better education and training this can change. I want to deliver babies like Garrett during my shift, because it is giving this vital care that reminds me why I became a doctor in the first place.

Dr. Florescue is an ob.gyn. in private practice at Women Gynecology and Childbirth Associates in Rochester, N.Y. She delivers babies at Highland Hospital in Rochester. She has no relevant financial disclosures. Email her a [email protected].

References

1. “Stillbirths 2016: ending preventable stillbirths.” Series from The Lancet journals. Published: Jan. 20, 2016.

2. BMC Pregnancy Childbirth. 2012 Nov 27. doi: 10.1186/1471-2393-12-137.

One of hardest parts of being an obstetrician is taking care of patients who experience a stillbirth. I am very comfortable with the care of a grieving patient and I always have been, although I am not sure why. I have a model of care that I have evolved in my 16 years since medical school graduation. This model is not based on formal instruction because I received none, but on my natural instincts of what a grieving mom and her family need to hear and receive in the worst moments of their lives. All obstetrics providers grieve the loss of the baby, but often not with the patient but on our own. We may do this because we want to respect the patient’s privacy or because we are not sure of the words to say. I hope I can provide some guidance for those who struggle with what to do.

SDI Productions/E+

I delivered my first stillborn baby as a third-year medical student. My mentor, a chief resident, saw something in me and encouraged me to care for this mother. She had twins and one baby was still living, but the prognosis was poor since this was the surviving twin from a monochorionic diamniotic pregnancy. On the day of the mom’s induction, I just pulled up a chair and talked with her. We talked about her life, the loss of the first baby several weeks before, and her hope that her surviving son would be okay. She felt so bonded to me that she refused to push until I was there. Her delivery is still firm in my mind. I still remember 17 years later the room she delivered in.

My first loss (stillbirth) as a resident was my intern year – a beautiful baby named Jude, who was stillborn at 39 weeks. After delivering Jude, I asked the family about the funeral arrangements. Three days later, I attended his funeral. I looked all around for the mother’s attending doctors but none of them were there. I remember thinking then that it was a given that they would be there, but now I know that it is rare. I also learned a lot about the grief a stillborn baby brings while listening to Jude’s father’s eulogy. He talked about how Jude would never bake cookies with Aunt Jane, ride the slide with cousin Chris, or put on a yellow backpack and ride the bus on the first day of school. Because of this eulogy, I understood this unique kind of grief that these losses bring early in my training.

I delivered many losses in my residency. The attendings left soon after the birth and I stayed behind with the family. I sat and counseled the families, and I helped them make memories. I realized that to care for these patients, I would need to trust my instincts because there was no formal and little informal training on how to care for families who lost their babies.

Once I completed residency, I was really able to do my “thing.” At loss deliveries, I was able to model for residents my method of care. I showed them that families want and need attention, support, and guidance. I modeled for them how to deliver and greet the baby. That it is not necessary to leave the room right after the birth, and it is okay to grieve and help families meet their babies. I modeled commenting on the baby’s features, on who they looked like. I showed how laughing about how the baby has grandma’s nose is okay. I showed them that it is okay to ask to hold and get a picture taken with the baby. I showed them that these are the only moments these families will get with their babies, and it is our job to help them do this. The family will have many moments alone in the days and weeks to come. They need our support and guidance. It is a part of being an ob.gyn. to care for families after stillbirths, and we do not want our patients to feel abandoned during this time by those they entrust to care for them.

I also was able to create a model for aftercare. I call my families often after they go home. Sometimes I catch them in the anger stage of the grief process and I let them vent. I work through this with them, and I answer their hardest and sometimes accusatory questions regarding care leading up to the diagnosis. I am not saying this is easy for me or for them. I think fear of these tough conversations is a barrier to giving the emotional support that these families need. I work through this with them in an honest and open manner. I also call to check on the patients as much as possible, especially on anniversaries. I am not saying that all providers must follow this model. This is my passion and is natural for me, but data clearly show that the standard of emotional care we provide is not what patients need at this time. Thankfully, there is an amazing resource of grief counselors, social workers, online resources, and support groups for these families to help them get through the tragedy. These resources, however, are not the provider who spent this precious time with them and their beloved baby, and our emotional support is invaluable.

This past year has been very eventful for me. One of my patients delivered a new baby, after a prior loss, and asked if we could teach together. I had mentioned that everything I do with stillbirths is not based on my residency education, but on my experience and instinctual feeling of what families need. She knew from friends in bereavement circles that they felt that their care was different. We started teaching last summer and have done 10 training sessions to date; hopefully we will continue to teach new groups of nurses, residents, medical students, doulas, and physician assistant students each year.

This year also was eventful because I discovered the Star Legacy Foundation, a national not-for-profit organization with the goal of spreading awareness, education, and prevention regarding stillbirth. I attended their 2019 Summit in Minnesota. I thought I would meet many more doctors and midwives like myself, and I would learn even more about care for bereaved patients. However, that summer I learned preventing stillbirth may be possible from the then chief medical officer of Scotland, Catherine Calderwood, MB ChB. She talked about the preventive protocol she had created that had reduced the stillbirth rate by 23%. Because I was one of only five ob.gyn. nonspeaker attendees in a room of 400, I realized I had a real opportunity to try to bring some model for prevention to the United States. I brought the U.K. protocol to my practice and we have been doing it now for 9 months. (See “Decreased fetal movement: Time to educate patients and ourselves” at mdedge.com/pediatrics.)

I have had a year to think about why the U.S. stillbirth rate is higher than that of many high-income nations and why we have the lowest annual rate of reduction in the 2016 Lancet series among high resource nations.¹ I think it is due to lack of education and training for providers in stillbirth prevention and care, which has led to further marginalization and stigmatization of bereaved moms. This has pushed them further into the shadows and makes it taboo to share their stories. It is providers being fearful to even mention to patients that stillbirth still happens. It is the lack of any protocol on how to educate patients and providers about fetal movement, and what to do if pregnant women complain about a decrease or change in fetal movement. I think a lot of this stems from an innate discomfort that obstetric providers have in the care of these patients. That if women felt cared for and empowered to tell their stories, there would be more efforts at stillbirth education and prevention.

I often think of an experience that the founder of Star Legacy, Lindsey Wimmer, experienced when she lost her son, Garrett, 16 years ago. She told a story in the documentary, “Don’t talk about the baby.” She tells that on the first night of the induction, the nurse came in and told her that the attending wanted to turn off the oxytocin so “she could get her rest.” I heard this and immediately knew the attending’s true reason for turning off the oxytocin. Lindsey then said she knew it was because the attending did not want to wake up to deliver a dead baby. I wrote Lindsey that day and told her I completely agreed and apologized on behalf of my profession for that care. She wrote me back that she had waited 16 years to have a provider validate her feelings about this. I told her I think her doctor was fearful and uncomfortable with this birth and was avoiding it, but I believe with better education and training this can change. I want to deliver babies like Garrett during my shift, because it is giving this vital care that reminds me why I became a doctor in the first place.

Dr. Florescue is an ob.gyn. in private practice at Women Gynecology and Childbirth Associates in Rochester, N.Y. She delivers babies at Highland Hospital in Rochester. She has no relevant financial disclosures. Email her a [email protected].

References

1. “Stillbirths 2016: ending preventable stillbirths.” Series from The Lancet journals. Published: Jan. 20, 2016.

2. BMC Pregnancy Childbirth. 2012 Nov 27. doi: 10.1186/1471-2393-12-137.

Substance use disorder and its daily consequences take no breaks even during a pandemic. The stressors created by COVID-19, including deaths of loved ones and the disruptions to normal life from policies aimed at flattening the curve, seem to have increased substance use.

Courtesy Dr. Keji Fagbemi

I practice as a hospitalist with an internal medicine background and specialty in addiction medicine at BronxCare Health System’s inpatient detoxification unit, a 24/7, 20-bed medically-supervised unit in South Bronx in New York City. It is one of the comprehensive services provided by the BronxCare’s life recovery center and addiction services, which also includes an outpatient clinic, opioid treatment program, inpatient rehab, and a half-way house. Inpatient detoxification units like ours are designed to treat serious addictions and chemical dependency and prevent and treat life-threatening withdrawal symptoms and signs or complications. Our patients come from all over the city and its adjoining suburbs, including from emergency room referrals, referral clinics, courts and the justice system, walk-ins, and self-referrals.

At a time when many inpatient detoxification units within the city were temporarily closed due to fear of inpatient spread of the virus or to provide extra COVID beds in anticipation for the peak surge, we have been able to provide a needed service. In fact, several other inpatient detoxification programs within the city have been able to refer their patients to our facility.

Individuals with substance use disorder have historically been a vulnerable and underserved population and possess high risk for multiple health problems as well as preexisting conditions. Many have limited life options financially, educationally, and with housing, and encounter barriers to accessing primary health care services, including preventive services. The introduction of the COVID-19 pandemic into these patients’ precarious health situations only made things worse as many of the limited resources for patients with substance use disorder were diverted to battling the pandemic. Numerous inpatient and outpatient addiction services, for example, were temporarily shut down. This has led to an increase in domestic violence, and psychiatric decompensation, including psychosis, suicidal attempts, and worsening of medical comorbidities in these patients.

Our wake-up call came when the first case of COVID-19 was confirmed in New York in early March. Within a short period of time the state became the epicenter for COVID-19. With the projection of millions of cases being positive and the number of new cases doubling every third day at the onset in New York City, we knew we had a battle brewing and needed to radically transform our mode of operation fast.

Our first task was to ensure the safety of our patients and the dedicated health workers attending to them. Instead of shutting down we decided to focus on education, screening, mask usage, social distancing, and intensifying hygiene. We streamlined the patient point of entry through one screening site, while also brushing up on our history-taking to intently screen for COVID-19. This included not just focusing on travels from China, but from Europe and other parts of the world.

Yes, we did ask patients about cough, fever, shortness of breath or difficulty breathing, feeling fatigued, severe body ache, and possible contact with someone who is sick or has traveled overseas. But we were also attuned to the increased rate of community spread and the presentation of other symptoms, such as loss of taste and smell, early in the process. Hence we were able to triage patients with suspected cases to the appropriate sections of the hospital for further screening, testing, and evaluation, instead of having those patients admitted to the detox unit.

Courtesy Dr. Keji Fagbemi

Dr. Fagbemi is a hospitalist at BronxCare Health System, a not-for-profit health and teaching hospital system serving South and Central Bronx in New York. He has no conflicts of interest to disclose.

Substance use disorder and its daily consequences take no breaks even during a pandemic. The stressors created by COVID-19, including deaths of loved ones and the disruptions to normal life from policies aimed at flattening the curve, seem to have increased substance use.

Courtesy Dr. Keji Fagbemi

I practice as a hospitalist with an internal medicine background and specialty in addiction medicine at BronxCare Health System’s inpatient detoxification unit, a 24/7, 20-bed medically-supervised unit in South Bronx in New York City. It is one of the comprehensive services provided by the BronxCare’s life recovery center and addiction services, which also includes an outpatient clinic, opioid treatment program, inpatient rehab, and a half-way house. Inpatient detoxification units like ours are designed to treat serious addictions and chemical dependency and prevent and treat life-threatening withdrawal symptoms and signs or complications. Our patients come from all over the city and its adjoining suburbs, including from emergency room referrals, referral clinics, courts and the justice system, walk-ins, and self-referrals.

At a time when many inpatient detoxification units within the city were temporarily closed due to fear of inpatient spread of the virus or to provide extra COVID beds in anticipation for the peak surge, we have been able to provide a needed service. In fact, several other inpatient detoxification programs within the city have been able to refer their patients to our facility.

Individuals with substance use disorder have historically been a vulnerable and underserved population and possess high risk for multiple health problems as well as preexisting conditions. Many have limited life options financially, educationally, and with housing, and encounter barriers to accessing primary health care services, including preventive services. The introduction of the COVID-19 pandemic into these patients’ precarious health situations only made things worse as many of the limited resources for patients with substance use disorder were diverted to battling the pandemic. Numerous inpatient and outpatient addiction services, for example, were temporarily shut down. This has led to an increase in domestic violence, and psychiatric decompensation, including psychosis, suicidal attempts, and worsening of medical comorbidities in these patients.

Our wake-up call came when the first case of COVID-19 was confirmed in New York in early March. Within a short period of time the state became the epicenter for COVID-19. With the projection of millions of cases being positive and the number of new cases doubling every third day at the onset in New York City, we knew we had a battle brewing and needed to radically transform our mode of operation fast.

Our first task was to ensure the safety of our patients and the dedicated health workers attending to them. Instead of shutting down we decided to focus on education, screening, mask usage, social distancing, and intensifying hygiene. We streamlined the patient point of entry through one screening site, while also brushing up on our history-taking to intently screen for COVID-19. This included not just focusing on travels from China, but from Europe and other parts of the world.

Yes, we did ask patients about cough, fever, shortness of breath or difficulty breathing, feeling fatigued, severe body ache, and possible contact with someone who is sick or has traveled overseas. But we were also attuned to the increased rate of community spread and the presentation of other symptoms, such as loss of taste and smell, early in the process. Hence we were able to triage patients with suspected cases to the appropriate sections of the hospital for further screening, testing, and evaluation, instead of having those patients admitted to the detox unit.

Courtesy Dr. Keji Fagbemi

Dr. Fagbemi is a hospitalist at BronxCare Health System, a not-for-profit health and teaching hospital system serving South and Central Bronx in New York. He has no conflicts of interest to disclose.

Substance use disorder and its daily consequences take no breaks even during a pandemic. The stressors created by COVID-19, including deaths of loved ones and the disruptions to normal life from policies aimed at flattening the curve, seem to have increased substance use.

Courtesy Dr. Keji Fagbemi

I practice as a hospitalist with an internal medicine background and specialty in addiction medicine at BronxCare Health System’s inpatient detoxification unit, a 24/7, 20-bed medically-supervised unit in South Bronx in New York City. It is one of the comprehensive services provided by the BronxCare’s life recovery center and addiction services, which also includes an outpatient clinic, opioid treatment program, inpatient rehab, and a half-way house. Inpatient detoxification units like ours are designed to treat serious addictions and chemical dependency and prevent and treat life-threatening withdrawal symptoms and signs or complications. Our patients come from all over the city and its adjoining suburbs, including from emergency room referrals, referral clinics, courts and the justice system, walk-ins, and self-referrals.

At a time when many inpatient detoxification units within the city were temporarily closed due to fear of inpatient spread of the virus or to provide extra COVID beds in anticipation for the peak surge, we have been able to provide a needed service. In fact, several other inpatient detoxification programs within the city have been able to refer their patients to our facility.

Individuals with substance use disorder have historically been a vulnerable and underserved population and possess high risk for multiple health problems as well as preexisting conditions. Many have limited life options financially, educationally, and with housing, and encounter barriers to accessing primary health care services, including preventive services. The introduction of the COVID-19 pandemic into these patients’ precarious health situations only made things worse as many of the limited resources for patients with substance use disorder were diverted to battling the pandemic. Numerous inpatient and outpatient addiction services, for example, were temporarily shut down. This has led to an increase in domestic violence, and psychiatric decompensation, including psychosis, suicidal attempts, and worsening of medical comorbidities in these patients.

Our wake-up call came when the first case of COVID-19 was confirmed in New York in early March. Within a short period of time the state became the epicenter for COVID-19. With the projection of millions of cases being positive and the number of new cases doubling every third day at the onset in New York City, we knew we had a battle brewing and needed to radically transform our mode of operation fast.

Our first task was to ensure the safety of our patients and the dedicated health workers attending to them. Instead of shutting down we decided to focus on education, screening, mask usage, social distancing, and intensifying hygiene. We streamlined the patient point of entry through one screening site, while also brushing up on our history-taking to intently screen for COVID-19. This included not just focusing on travels from China, but from Europe and other parts of the world.

Yes, we did ask patients about cough, fever, shortness of breath or difficulty breathing, feeling fatigued, severe body ache, and possible contact with someone who is sick or has traveled overseas. But we were also attuned to the increased rate of community spread and the presentation of other symptoms, such as loss of taste and smell, early in the process. Hence we were able to triage patients with suspected cases to the appropriate sections of the hospital for further screening, testing, and evaluation, instead of having those patients admitted to the detox unit.

Courtesy Dr. Keji Fagbemi

Dr. Fagbemi is a hospitalist at BronxCare Health System, a not-for-profit health and teaching hospital system serving South and Central Bronx in New York. He has no conflicts of interest to disclose.

The current standard frontline therapy for advanced epithelial ovarian, fallopian tube, and primary peritoneal cancer includes a combination of surgical cytoreduction and at least six cycles of platinum-based chemotherapy. While this achieves a complete clinical response (“remission”) in most, 85% of patients will recur and eventually succumb to the disease. This suggests that treatments are good at inducing remission, but poor at eradicating the disease altogether. This has motivated the consideration of maintenance therapy: extended treatment beyond completion of chemotherapy during the period of time when patients are clinically disease free.

Maintenance therapy is an appealing concept for clinicians who desperately want to “hold” their patients in a disease-free state for longer periods. It is also a profitable way to administer therapy as there is more compensation to the pharmaceutical industry from chronic, long-term drug administration rather than episodic treatment courses. However, the following question must be asked: Is this extended therapy worthwhile for all patients, and is it good value?

In the past 12 months, three major industry-sponsored clinical trials have been published (PRIMA, PAOLA-1, and VELIA)which suggest a benefit for all patients with advanced epithelial ovarian cancer in receiving prolonged poly (ADP-ribose) polymerase inhibitor (PARPi) therapy after primary chemotherapy.^1-3 This has resulted in Food and Drug Administration approval for some of these agents as maintenance therapy. Despite differences in the drugs tested and the timing of therapy, these studies observed that treatment of advanced ovarian cancer with the addition of a PARPi during and/or after carboplatin and paclitaxel chemotherapy for up to an additional 3 years resulted in a longer progression-free survival (PFS) of approximately 6 months. PFS is defined as the time to measurable recurrence or death. However, this positive effect was not equally distributed across the whole population; rather, it appeared to be created by a substantial response in a smaller subgroup.

PARP inhibitor therapies such as olaparib, niraparib, veliparib, and rucaparib target a family of enzymes that repair DNA and stabilize the human genome through the repair of single-stranded DNA breaks. Inhibiting these enzymes facilitates the accumulation of single-stranded breaks, allowing the development of double-strand breaks, which in turn cannot be repaired if the cell has deficient homologous recombination (HRD) such as through a germline or somatic BRCA mutation, or alternative relevant mutation that confers a similar effect. The opportunistic pairing of a drug interaction with a pathway specific to the cancer is an example of a targeted therapy.

In order to improve the value of cancer drug therapy, there has been emphasis by cooperative research groups, such as the Gynecologic Oncology Group, to study the efficacy of targeted therapies, such as PARPi, in patients identified by biomarkers such as tumors that possess germline or somatic HRD in whom they are most likely to work. This approach makes good common sense and promises to deliver a large magnitude of clinical benefit in a smaller focused population. Therefore, even if drug costs are high, the treatment may still have value. Consistent with that principle, the recently published VELIA, PRIMA, and PAOLA-1 trials all showed impressive benefit in PFS (on average 11-12 months) for the subgroup of patients with HRD. However, these studies were designed and funded by the pharmaceutical industry, and abandoned the principle of biomarker-driven targeted therapy. They did not limit their studies to the HRD-positive population most likely to benefit, but instead included and reported on the impact on all-comers (patients with both HRD and HR-proficient tumors). Subsequently their final conclusions could be extrapolated to the general population of ovarian cancer patients, and in doing so, a larger share of the marketplace.

Only 30% of the general population of ovarian, fallopian tube and primary peritoneal cancer patients carry a germline or somatic BRCA mutation and less than half carry this or alternative mutations which confer HRD. The remaining majority are HR-proficient tumors. However, the three study populations in the aforementioned trials were enriched for HRD tumors with 50%-60% subjects carrying germline or somatic HRD. Therefore, it is likely that the observed benefits in the “intent-to-treat” group were larger than what a clinician would observe in their patient population. Additionally, the large (11-12 month) gains in the HRD-positive group may have been so significant that they compensated for the subtle impact in the HR-proficient population (less than 3 months), resulting in an average total effect that, while being statistically significant for “all comers,” was actually only clinically significant for the HRD group. The positive impact for HRD tumors effectively boosted the results for the group as a whole.

The use of PFS as a primary endpoint raises another significant concern with the design of these PARPi maintenance trials. Much has been written about the importance of PFS as an endpoint for ovarian cancer because of confounding effects of subsequent therapy and to minimize the costs and duration of clinical trials.⁴ PFS is a quicker, less expensive endpoint to capture than overall survival. It usually correlates with overall survival, but typically only when there is a large magnitude of benefit in PFS. These arguments are fair when considering episodic drug therapies in the setting of measurable, active disease. However, maintenance therapy is given during a period of what patients think of as remission. Remission is valued by patients because it is a gateway to cure, and also because it is a time devoid of symptoms of disease, toxicity (therapeutic and financial), and the burden of frequent medical visits and interventions. While PFS is a measure of the length of remission, it is not a measure of cure. We should ask: What does it mean to a patient if she has a longer remission but needs to be on drug therapy (with its associated burdens and toxicities) in order to maintain that remission? We know that an increase in PFS with maintenance therapy does not always result in a commensurate increase in survival. One does not always precede the other. An example of this is the use of maintenance bevacizumab following upfront chemotherapy which improves PFS by 4 months, but is not associated with an increase in survival.⁵

When considering the value and ethics of maintenance therapy, it should be associated with a proven survival benefit or an improvement in quality of life. With respect to PARPi maintenance, we lack the data regarding the former, and have contrary evidence regarding the latter. In these three trials, PARPi maintenance was associated with significantly more toxicity than placebo including the commonly observed nausea and fatigue. Most of us would not like to be on a drug therapy for 3 years that made us feel nauseated or fatigued if it didn’t also increase our chance of cure or a longer life. While the significant PFS benefit of maintenance PARPi that is consistently observed in HRD-positive ovarian cancers suggests there will also likely be a clinically significant improvement in survival and cure in that specific subpopulation, this is less likely true for the majority of women with HR-proficient ovarian cancers. Time will tell this story, but as yet, we don’t know.

The use of maintenance PARPi therapy during and/or after primary cytotoxic chemotherapy for advanced epithelial ovarian, primary peritoneal, and fallopian tube cancer is associated with a substantial benefit in time to recurrence in a population with HRD tumors and a small benefit among the majority who don’t. However, it comes at the cost of toxicity at a time when patients would otherwise be free of disease and treatment. I propose that, until a survival benefit for all women has been observed, we should consider a targeted and biomarker-driven approach to maintenance PARPi prescription, favoring prescription for those with germline or somatic HRD mutations.

Dr. Rossi is assistant professor in the division of gynecologic oncology at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She said she had no relevant financial disclosures. Email Dr. Rossi at [email protected].

References

1. González-Martín A et al. N Engl J Med. 2019 Dec 19;381(25):2391-402.

2. Ray-Coquard I et al. N Engl J Med. 2019 Dec 19;381(25):2416-28.

3. Coleman RL et al. N Engl J Med. 2019 Dec 19;381(25):2403-15.

4. Herzog TJ et al. Gynecol Oncol. 2014 Jan;132(1):8-17.

5. Tewari KS et al. J Clin Oncol. 2019 Sep 10;37(26):2317-28.

The current standard frontline therapy for advanced epithelial ovarian, fallopian tube, and primary peritoneal cancer includes a combination of surgical cytoreduction and at least six cycles of platinum-based chemotherapy. While this achieves a complete clinical response (“remission”) in most, 85% of patients will recur and eventually succumb to the disease. This suggests that treatments are good at inducing remission, but poor at eradicating the disease altogether. This has motivated the consideration of maintenance therapy: extended treatment beyond completion of chemotherapy during the period of time when patients are clinically disease free.

Maintenance therapy is an appealing concept for clinicians who desperately want to “hold” their patients in a disease-free state for longer periods. It is also a profitable way to administer therapy as there is more compensation to the pharmaceutical industry from chronic, long-term drug administration rather than episodic treatment courses. However, the following question must be asked: Is this extended therapy worthwhile for all patients, and is it good value?

In the past 12 months, three major industry-sponsored clinical trials have been published (PRIMA, PAOLA-1, and VELIA)which suggest a benefit for all patients with advanced epithelial ovarian cancer in receiving prolonged poly (ADP-ribose) polymerase inhibitor (PARPi) therapy after primary chemotherapy.^1-3 This has resulted in Food and Drug Administration approval for some of these agents as maintenance therapy. Despite differences in the drugs tested and the timing of therapy, these studies observed that treatment of advanced ovarian cancer with the addition of a PARPi during and/or after carboplatin and paclitaxel chemotherapy for up to an additional 3 years resulted in a longer progression-free survival (PFS) of approximately 6 months. PFS is defined as the time to measurable recurrence or death. However, this positive effect was not equally distributed across the whole population; rather, it appeared to be created by a substantial response in a smaller subgroup.

PARP inhibitor therapies such as olaparib, niraparib, veliparib, and rucaparib target a family of enzymes that repair DNA and stabilize the human genome through the repair of single-stranded DNA breaks. Inhibiting these enzymes facilitates the accumulation of single-stranded breaks, allowing the development of double-strand breaks, which in turn cannot be repaired if the cell has deficient homologous recombination (HRD) such as through a germline or somatic BRCA mutation, or alternative relevant mutation that confers a similar effect. The opportunistic pairing of a drug interaction with a pathway specific to the cancer is an example of a targeted therapy.

In order to improve the value of cancer drug therapy, there has been emphasis by cooperative research groups, such as the Gynecologic Oncology Group, to study the efficacy of targeted therapies, such as PARPi, in patients identified by biomarkers such as tumors that possess germline or somatic HRD in whom they are most likely to work. This approach makes good common sense and promises to deliver a large magnitude of clinical benefit in a smaller focused population. Therefore, even if drug costs are high, the treatment may still have value. Consistent with that principle, the recently published VELIA, PRIMA, and PAOLA-1 trials all showed impressive benefit in PFS (on average 11-12 months) for the subgroup of patients with HRD. However, these studies were designed and funded by the pharmaceutical industry, and abandoned the principle of biomarker-driven targeted therapy. They did not limit their studies to the HRD-positive population most likely to benefit, but instead included and reported on the impact on all-comers (patients with both HRD and HR-proficient tumors). Subsequently their final conclusions could be extrapolated to the general population of ovarian cancer patients, and in doing so, a larger share of the marketplace.

Only 30% of the general population of ovarian, fallopian tube and primary peritoneal cancer patients carry a germline or somatic BRCA mutation and less than half carry this or alternative mutations which confer HRD. The remaining majority are HR-proficient tumors. However, the three study populations in the aforementioned trials were enriched for HRD tumors with 50%-60% subjects carrying germline or somatic HRD. Therefore, it is likely that the observed benefits in the “intent-to-treat” group were larger than what a clinician would observe in their patient population. Additionally, the large (11-12 month) gains in the HRD-positive group may have been so significant that they compensated for the subtle impact in the HR-proficient population (less than 3 months), resulting in an average total effect that, while being statistically significant for “all comers,” was actually only clinically significant for the HRD group. The positive impact for HRD tumors effectively boosted the results for the group as a whole.

The use of PFS as a primary endpoint raises another significant concern with the design of these PARPi maintenance trials. Much has been written about the importance of PFS as an endpoint for ovarian cancer because of confounding effects of subsequent therapy and to minimize the costs and duration of clinical trials.⁴ PFS is a quicker, less expensive endpoint to capture than overall survival. It usually correlates with overall survival, but typically only when there is a large magnitude of benefit in PFS. These arguments are fair when considering episodic drug therapies in the setting of measurable, active disease. However, maintenance therapy is given during a period of what patients think of as remission. Remission is valued by patients because it is a gateway to cure, and also because it is a time devoid of symptoms of disease, toxicity (therapeutic and financial), and the burden of frequent medical visits and interventions. While PFS is a measure of the length of remission, it is not a measure of cure. We should ask: What does it mean to a patient if she has a longer remission but needs to be on drug therapy (with its associated burdens and toxicities) in order to maintain that remission? We know that an increase in PFS with maintenance therapy does not always result in a commensurate increase in survival. One does not always precede the other. An example of this is the use of maintenance bevacizumab following upfront chemotherapy which improves PFS by 4 months, but is not associated with an increase in survival.⁵

When considering the value and ethics of maintenance therapy, it should be associated with a proven survival benefit or an improvement in quality of life. With respect to PARPi maintenance, we lack the data regarding the former, and have contrary evidence regarding the latter. In these three trials, PARPi maintenance was associated with significantly more toxicity than placebo including the commonly observed nausea and fatigue. Most of us would not like to be on a drug therapy for 3 years that made us feel nauseated or fatigued if it didn’t also increase our chance of cure or a longer life. While the significant PFS benefit of maintenance PARPi that is consistently observed in HRD-positive ovarian cancers suggests there will also likely be a clinically significant improvement in survival and cure in that specific subpopulation, this is less likely true for the majority of women with HR-proficient ovarian cancers. Time will tell this story, but as yet, we don’t know.

The use of maintenance PARPi therapy during and/or after primary cytotoxic chemotherapy for advanced epithelial ovarian, primary peritoneal, and fallopian tube cancer is associated with a substantial benefit in time to recurrence in a population with HRD tumors and a small benefit among the majority who don’t. However, it comes at the cost of toxicity at a time when patients would otherwise be free of disease and treatment. I propose that, until a survival benefit for all women has been observed, we should consider a targeted and biomarker-driven approach to maintenance PARPi prescription, favoring prescription for those with germline or somatic HRD mutations.

Dr. Rossi is assistant professor in the division of gynecologic oncology at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She said she had no relevant financial disclosures. Email Dr. Rossi at [email protected].

References

1. González-Martín A et al. N Engl J Med. 2019 Dec 19;381(25):2391-402.

2. Ray-Coquard I et al. N Engl J Med. 2019 Dec 19;381(25):2416-28.

3. Coleman RL et al. N Engl J Med. 2019 Dec 19;381(25):2403-15.

4. Herzog TJ et al. Gynecol Oncol. 2014 Jan;132(1):8-17.

5. Tewari KS et al. J Clin Oncol. 2019 Sep 10;37(26):2317-28.

The current standard frontline therapy for advanced epithelial ovarian, fallopian tube, and primary peritoneal cancer includes a combination of surgical cytoreduction and at least six cycles of platinum-based chemotherapy. While this achieves a complete clinical response (“remission”) in most, 85% of patients will recur and eventually succumb to the disease. This suggests that treatments are good at inducing remission, but poor at eradicating the disease altogether. This has motivated the consideration of maintenance therapy: extended treatment beyond completion of chemotherapy during the period of time when patients are clinically disease free.

Maintenance therapy is an appealing concept for clinicians who desperately want to “hold” their patients in a disease-free state for longer periods. It is also a profitable way to administer therapy as there is more compensation to the pharmaceutical industry from chronic, long-term drug administration rather than episodic treatment courses. However, the following question must be asked: Is this extended therapy worthwhile for all patients, and is it good value?

In the past 12 months, three major industry-sponsored clinical trials have been published (PRIMA, PAOLA-1, and VELIA)which suggest a benefit for all patients with advanced epithelial ovarian cancer in receiving prolonged poly (ADP-ribose) polymerase inhibitor (PARPi) therapy after primary chemotherapy.^1-3 This has resulted in Food and Drug Administration approval for some of these agents as maintenance therapy. Despite differences in the drugs tested and the timing of therapy, these studies observed that treatment of advanced ovarian cancer with the addition of a PARPi during and/or after carboplatin and paclitaxel chemotherapy for up to an additional 3 years resulted in a longer progression-free survival (PFS) of approximately 6 months. PFS is defined as the time to measurable recurrence or death. However, this positive effect was not equally distributed across the whole population; rather, it appeared to be created by a substantial response in a smaller subgroup.

PARP inhibitor therapies such as olaparib, niraparib, veliparib, and rucaparib target a family of enzymes that repair DNA and stabilize the human genome through the repair of single-stranded DNA breaks. Inhibiting these enzymes facilitates the accumulation of single-stranded breaks, allowing the development of double-strand breaks, which in turn cannot be repaired if the cell has deficient homologous recombination (HRD) such as through a germline or somatic BRCA mutation, or alternative relevant mutation that confers a similar effect. The opportunistic pairing of a drug interaction with a pathway specific to the cancer is an example of a targeted therapy.

In order to improve the value of cancer drug therapy, there has been emphasis by cooperative research groups, such as the Gynecologic Oncology Group, to study the efficacy of targeted therapies, such as PARPi, in patients identified by biomarkers such as tumors that possess germline or somatic HRD in whom they are most likely to work. This approach makes good common sense and promises to deliver a large magnitude of clinical benefit in a smaller focused population. Therefore, even if drug costs are high, the treatment may still have value. Consistent with that principle, the recently published VELIA, PRIMA, and PAOLA-1 trials all showed impressive benefit in PFS (on average 11-12 months) for the subgroup of patients with HRD. However, these studies were designed and funded by the pharmaceutical industry, and abandoned the principle of biomarker-driven targeted therapy. They did not limit their studies to the HRD-positive population most likely to benefit, but instead included and reported on the impact on all-comers (patients with both HRD and HR-proficient tumors). Subsequently their final conclusions could be extrapolated to the general population of ovarian cancer patients, and in doing so, a larger share of the marketplace.

Only 30% of the general population of ovarian, fallopian tube and primary peritoneal cancer patients carry a germline or somatic BRCA mutation and less than half carry this or alternative mutations which confer HRD. The remaining majority are HR-proficient tumors. However, the three study populations in the aforementioned trials were enriched for HRD tumors with 50%-60% subjects carrying germline or somatic HRD. Therefore, it is likely that the observed benefits in the “intent-to-treat” group were larger than what a clinician would observe in their patient population. Additionally, the large (11-12 month) gains in the HRD-positive group may have been so significant that they compensated for the subtle impact in the HR-proficient population (less than 3 months), resulting in an average total effect that, while being statistically significant for “all comers,” was actually only clinically significant for the HRD group. The positive impact for HRD tumors effectively boosted the results for the group as a whole.

The use of PFS as a primary endpoint raises another significant concern with the design of these PARPi maintenance trials. Much has been written about the importance of PFS as an endpoint for ovarian cancer because of confounding effects of subsequent therapy and to minimize the costs and duration of clinical trials.⁴ PFS is a quicker, less expensive endpoint to capture than overall survival. It usually correlates with overall survival, but typically only when there is a large magnitude of benefit in PFS. These arguments are fair when considering episodic drug therapies in the setting of measurable, active disease. However, maintenance therapy is given during a period of what patients think of as remission. Remission is valued by patients because it is a gateway to cure, and also because it is a time devoid of symptoms of disease, toxicity (therapeutic and financial), and the burden of frequent medical visits and interventions. While PFS is a measure of the length of remission, it is not a measure of cure. We should ask: What does it mean to a patient if she has a longer remission but needs to be on drug therapy (with its associated burdens and toxicities) in order to maintain that remission? We know that an increase in PFS with maintenance therapy does not always result in a commensurate increase in survival. One does not always precede the other. An example of this is the use of maintenance bevacizumab following upfront chemotherapy which improves PFS by 4 months, but is not associated with an increase in survival.⁵

When considering the value and ethics of maintenance therapy, it should be associated with a proven survival benefit or an improvement in quality of life. With respect to PARPi maintenance, we lack the data regarding the former, and have contrary evidence regarding the latter. In these three trials, PARPi maintenance was associated with significantly more toxicity than placebo including the commonly observed nausea and fatigue. Most of us would not like to be on a drug therapy for 3 years that made us feel nauseated or fatigued if it didn’t also increase our chance of cure or a longer life. While the significant PFS benefit of maintenance PARPi that is consistently observed in HRD-positive ovarian cancers suggests there will also likely be a clinically significant improvement in survival and cure in that specific subpopulation, this is less likely true for the majority of women with HR-proficient ovarian cancers. Time will tell this story, but as yet, we don’t know.

The use of maintenance PARPi therapy during and/or after primary cytotoxic chemotherapy for advanced epithelial ovarian, primary peritoneal, and fallopian tube cancer is associated with a substantial benefit in time to recurrence in a population with HRD tumors and a small benefit among the majority who don’t. However, it comes at the cost of toxicity at a time when patients would otherwise be free of disease and treatment. I propose that, until a survival benefit for all women has been observed, we should consider a targeted and biomarker-driven approach to maintenance PARPi prescription, favoring prescription for those with germline or somatic HRD mutations.

Dr. Rossi is assistant professor in the division of gynecologic oncology at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She said she had no relevant financial disclosures. Email Dr. Rossi at [email protected].

References

1. González-Martín A et al. N Engl J Med. 2019 Dec 19;381(25):2391-402.

2. Ray-Coquard I et al. N Engl J Med. 2019 Dec 19;381(25):2416-28.

3. Coleman RL et al. N Engl J Med. 2019 Dec 19;381(25):2403-15.

4. Herzog TJ et al. Gynecol Oncol. 2014 Jan;132(1):8-17.

5. Tewari KS et al. J Clin Oncol. 2019 Sep 10;37(26):2317-28.

As an addiction psychiatrist specializing in the use of ketamine-assisted psychotherapy, both in patients with mood disorders and substance use disorders, I would like to offer some perspective about limits and possibilities of ketamine and esketamine.

Single infusions of ketamine targeting unipolar mood symptoms indeed yield initial 24-hour response rates of about 60%-70%, though those rates fall precipitously with time.¹ Where single treatments fall short in terms of durability of benefit, a series of multiple treatments – modeled around electroconvulsive therapy and pending a noninferiority study to compare the two² – provide for more robust and durable results.³

Esketamine nasal spray, recently approved by the Food and Drug Administration for treatment-resistant major depressive disorder, consists of one of the component stereoisomers of ketamine and is administered at first twice weekly and then less frequently with time. It now, like off-label ketamine,⁴ sees clinical use as monotherapy for MDD, as an alternative for patients who have intolerance or lack of response to first-line treatments such as SSRIs.

Ketamine, while perhaps less directly validated and more stigmatized for psychiatric use, recently has been demonstrated in a rigorous trial as noninferior in terms of antidepressant benefit at 24 hours,⁵ and a multitude of published case studies document maintenance of benefit with repeat doses over a period of months.⁶ Ketamine notably enjoys several advantages over esketamine as a treatment option: a cost one to two orders of magnitude lower⁷ (esketamine nasal spray sees a wholesale price of $600-$900 per dose), greater versatility in dose, and lack of a restrictive REMS program.⁸ The $1-$2 cost of a dose of ketamine means that the clinical barrier of prior authorizations is largely a nonissue and may in and of itself vastly improve access to this novel and efficacious treatment.

My clinical experience involves providing ketamine as an intramuscular bolus along with contemporaneous psychotherapy; such combination of medication and psychotherapy intervention may be more effective than ketamine alone⁹ and has seen impressive initial results in the treatment of alcohol use disorder, termed ketamine psychedelic therapy.¹⁰ I can affirm these hopeful initial findings in the treatment of both mood and substance use disorders, and have observed maintained response from mood symptoms for a period of 1-4 years in several patients, with such sessions provided approximately monthly.¹¹

I hope these preliminary data inform more rigorous study of long-term ketamine as a treatment for psychiatric indications.

Dr. Ryan is a board-certified psychiatrist and addiction psychiatrist who practices in Los Angeles. He has written several articles and a book chapter on ketamine. Dr. Ryan has no disclosures.

References

1. Murrough JW et al. Am J Psychiatry. 2013;170(10):1134-42.

2. Mathew SJ et al. Contemp Clin Trials. 2019;77:19-26.

3. Singh JB et al. Am J Psychiatry. 2016;173(8):816-26.

4. Calabrese L. Int J Psychiatr Res. 2019; 2(5):1-12.

5. Correia-Melo FS et al. J Affect Disord. 2020;264:527-34.

6. Ryan WC, Marta CJ, Koek RJ. Ketamine and depression, in “The Ketamine Papers: Science, Therapy, and Transformation.” Santa Cruz, Calif.: Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies, 2016.

7. Institute for Clinical and Economic Review. “Esketamine for the Treatment of Treatment-Resistant Depression: Effectiveness and Value.” Final report. 2019 Jun 20.

8. Spravato package insert. Titusville, N.J.: Janssen Pharmaceuticals.

9. Dore J et al. J Psychoactive Drugs. 2019;51(2):189-98.

10. Krupitsky EM and Grinenko AY. J Psychoactive Drugs. 1997;29(2):165-83.

11. Ryan WC. Ketamine-assisted psychotherapy: Theory and chart review. KRIYA Ketamine Research Institute Conference. Hillsborough, Calif. 2019. Nov 9.

As an addiction psychiatrist specializing in the use of ketamine-assisted psychotherapy, both in patients with mood disorders and substance use disorders, I would like to offer some perspective about limits and possibilities of ketamine and esketamine.

Single infusions of ketamine targeting unipolar mood symptoms indeed yield initial 24-hour response rates of about 60%-70%, though those rates fall precipitously with time.¹ Where single treatments fall short in terms of durability of benefit, a series of multiple treatments – modeled around electroconvulsive therapy and pending a noninferiority study to compare the two² – provide for more robust and durable results.³

Esketamine nasal spray, recently approved by the Food and Drug Administration for treatment-resistant major depressive disorder, consists of one of the component stereoisomers of ketamine and is administered at first twice weekly and then less frequently with time. It now, like off-label ketamine,⁴ sees clinical use as monotherapy for MDD, as an alternative for patients who have intolerance or lack of response to first-line treatments such as SSRIs.

Ketamine, while perhaps less directly validated and more stigmatized for psychiatric use, recently has been demonstrated in a rigorous trial as noninferior in terms of antidepressant benefit at 24 hours,⁵ and a multitude of published case studies document maintenance of benefit with repeat doses over a period of months.⁶ Ketamine notably enjoys several advantages over esketamine as a treatment option: a cost one to two orders of magnitude lower⁷ (esketamine nasal spray sees a wholesale price of $600-$900 per dose), greater versatility in dose, and lack of a restrictive REMS program.⁸ The $1-$2 cost of a dose of ketamine means that the clinical barrier of prior authorizations is largely a nonissue and may in and of itself vastly improve access to this novel and efficacious treatment.

My clinical experience involves providing ketamine as an intramuscular bolus along with contemporaneous psychotherapy; such combination of medication and psychotherapy intervention may be more effective than ketamine alone⁹ and has seen impressive initial results in the treatment of alcohol use disorder, termed ketamine psychedelic therapy.¹⁰ I can affirm these hopeful initial findings in the treatment of both mood and substance use disorders, and have observed maintained response from mood symptoms for a period of 1-4 years in several patients, with such sessions provided approximately monthly.¹¹

I hope these preliminary data inform more rigorous study of long-term ketamine as a treatment for psychiatric indications.

Dr. Ryan is a board-certified psychiatrist and addiction psychiatrist who practices in Los Angeles. He has written several articles and a book chapter on ketamine. Dr. Ryan has no disclosures.

References

1. Murrough JW et al. Am J Psychiatry. 2013;170(10):1134-42.

2. Mathew SJ et al. Contemp Clin Trials. 2019;77:19-26.

3. Singh JB et al. Am J Psychiatry. 2016;173(8):816-26.

4. Calabrese L. Int J Psychiatr Res. 2019; 2(5):1-12.

5. Correia-Melo FS et al. J Affect Disord. 2020;264:527-34.

6. Ryan WC, Marta CJ, Koek RJ. Ketamine and depression, in “The Ketamine Papers: Science, Therapy, and Transformation.” Santa Cruz, Calif.: Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies, 2016.

7. Institute for Clinical and Economic Review. “Esketamine for the Treatment of Treatment-Resistant Depression: Effectiveness and Value.” Final report. 2019 Jun 20.

8. Spravato package insert. Titusville, N.J.: Janssen Pharmaceuticals.

9. Dore J et al. J Psychoactive Drugs. 2019;51(2):189-98.

10. Krupitsky EM and Grinenko AY. J Psychoactive Drugs. 1997;29(2):165-83.

11. Ryan WC. Ketamine-assisted psychotherapy: Theory and chart review. KRIYA Ketamine Research Institute Conference. Hillsborough, Calif. 2019. Nov 9.

As an addiction psychiatrist specializing in the use of ketamine-assisted psychotherapy, both in patients with mood disorders and substance use disorders, I would like to offer some perspective about limits and possibilities of ketamine and esketamine.

Single infusions of ketamine targeting unipolar mood symptoms indeed yield initial 24-hour response rates of about 60%-70%, though those rates fall precipitously with time.¹ Where single treatments fall short in terms of durability of benefit, a series of multiple treatments – modeled around electroconvulsive therapy and pending a noninferiority study to compare the two² – provide for more robust and durable results.³

Esketamine nasal spray, recently approved by the Food and Drug Administration for treatment-resistant major depressive disorder, consists of one of the component stereoisomers of ketamine and is administered at first twice weekly and then less frequently with time. It now, like off-label ketamine,⁴ sees clinical use as monotherapy for MDD, as an alternative for patients who have intolerance or lack of response to first-line treatments such as SSRIs.

Ketamine, while perhaps less directly validated and more stigmatized for psychiatric use, recently has been demonstrated in a rigorous trial as noninferior in terms of antidepressant benefit at 24 hours,⁵ and a multitude of published case studies document maintenance of benefit with repeat doses over a period of months.⁶ Ketamine notably enjoys several advantages over esketamine as a treatment option: a cost one to two orders of magnitude lower⁷ (esketamine nasal spray sees a wholesale price of $600-$900 per dose), greater versatility in dose, and lack of a restrictive REMS program.⁸ The $1-$2 cost of a dose of ketamine means that the clinical barrier of prior authorizations is largely a nonissue and may in and of itself vastly improve access to this novel and efficacious treatment.

My clinical experience involves providing ketamine as an intramuscular bolus along with contemporaneous psychotherapy; such combination of medication and psychotherapy intervention may be more effective than ketamine alone⁹ and has seen impressive initial results in the treatment of alcohol use disorder, termed ketamine psychedelic therapy.¹⁰ I can affirm these hopeful initial findings in the treatment of both mood and substance use disorders, and have observed maintained response from mood symptoms for a period of 1-4 years in several patients, with such sessions provided approximately monthly.¹¹

I hope these preliminary data inform more rigorous study of long-term ketamine as a treatment for psychiatric indications.

Dr. Ryan is a board-certified psychiatrist and addiction psychiatrist who practices in Los Angeles. He has written several articles and a book chapter on ketamine. Dr. Ryan has no disclosures.

References

1. Murrough JW et al. Am J Psychiatry. 2013;170(10):1134-42.

2. Mathew SJ et al. Contemp Clin Trials. 2019;77:19-26.

3. Singh JB et al. Am J Psychiatry. 2016;173(8):816-26.

4. Calabrese L. Int J Psychiatr Res. 2019; 2(5):1-12.

5. Correia-Melo FS et al. J Affect Disord. 2020;264:527-34.

6. Ryan WC, Marta CJ, Koek RJ. Ketamine and depression, in “The Ketamine Papers: Science, Therapy, and Transformation.” Santa Cruz, Calif.: Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies, 2016.

7. Institute for Clinical and Economic Review. “Esketamine for the Treatment of Treatment-Resistant Depression: Effectiveness and Value.” Final report. 2019 Jun 20.

8. Spravato package insert. Titusville, N.J.: Janssen Pharmaceuticals.

9. Dore J et al. J Psychoactive Drugs. 2019;51(2):189-98.

10. Krupitsky EM and Grinenko AY. J Psychoactive Drugs. 1997;29(2):165-83.

11. Ryan WC. Ketamine-assisted psychotherapy: Theory and chart review. KRIYA Ketamine Research Institute Conference. Hillsborough, Calif. 2019. Nov 9.