Commentary

Kobe Bryant knew me. Not personally, of course. I never received an autograph or shook his hand. But once in a while if I was up early enough, I’d run into Kobe at the gym in Newport Beach where he and I both worked out. As he did for all his fans at the gym, he’d make eye contact with me and nod hello. He was always focused on his workout – working with a trainer, never with headphones on. In person, he appeared enormous. Unlike most retired professional athletes, he still was in great shape. No doubt he could have suited up in purple and gold, and played against the Clippers that night if needed.

Featureflash Photo Agency

Being from New England, I never was a Laker fan. But at Kobe’s peak around 2000, I found him inspiring. I recall watching him play right around the time I was studying for my U.S. medical licensing exams. I thought, if Kobe can head to the gym after midnight and take a 1,000 shots to prepare for a game, then I could set my alarm for 4 a.m. and take a few dozen more questions from my First Aid books. Head down, “Kryptonite” cranked on my iPod, I wasn’t going to let anyone in that test room outwork me. Neither did he. I put in the time and, like Kobe in the 2002 conference finals against Sacramento, I crushed it.*

When we moved to California, I followed Kobe and the Lakers until he retired. To be clear, I didn’t aspire to be like him, firstly because I’m slightly shorter than Michael Bloomberg, but also because although accomplished, Kobe made some poor choices at times. Indeed, it seems he might have been kinder and more considerate when he was at the top. But in his retirement he looked to be toiling to make reparations, refocusing his prodigious energy and talent for the benefit of others rather than for just for scoring 81 points. His Rolls Royce was there before mine at the gym, and I was there early. He was still getting up early and now preparing to be a great venture capitalist, podcaster, author, and father to his girls.

Watching him carry kettle bells across the floor one morning, I wondered, do people like Kobe Bryant look to others for inspiration? Or are they are born with an endless supply of it? For me, I seemed to push harder and faster when watching idols pass by. Whether it was Kobe or Clayton Christensen (author of “The Innovator’s Dilemma”), Joe Jorizzo, or Barack Obama, I found I could do just a bit more if I had them in mind.

On game days, Kobe spoke of arriving at the arena early, long before anyone. He would use the silent, solo time to reflect on what he needed to do perform that night. I tried this last week, arriving at our clinic early, before any patients or staff. I turned the lights on and took a few minutes to think about what we needed to accomplish that day. I previewed patients on my schedule, searched Up to Date for the latest recommendations on a difficult case. I didn’t know Kobe, but I felt like I did.

CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication

When I received the text that Kobe Bryant had died, I was actually working on this column. So I decided to change the topic to write about people who inspire me, ironically inspired by him again. May he rest in peace.
 

Dr. Benabio is director of Healthcare Transformation and chief of dermatology at Kaiser Permanente San Diego. The opinions expressed in this column are his own and do not represent those of Kaiser Permanente. Dr. Benabio is @Dermdoc on Twitter. Write to him at [email protected].

*This article was updated 2/19/2020.

Kobe Bryant knew me. Not personally, of course. I never received an autograph or shook his hand. But once in a while if I was up early enough, I’d run into Kobe at the gym in Newport Beach where he and I both worked out. As he did for all his fans at the gym, he’d make eye contact with me and nod hello. He was always focused on his workout – working with a trainer, never with headphones on. In person, he appeared enormous. Unlike most retired professional athletes, he still was in great shape. No doubt he could have suited up in purple and gold, and played against the Clippers that night if needed.

Featureflash Photo Agency

Being from New England, I never was a Laker fan. But at Kobe’s peak around 2000, I found him inspiring. I recall watching him play right around the time I was studying for my U.S. medical licensing exams. I thought, if Kobe can head to the gym after midnight and take a 1,000 shots to prepare for a game, then I could set my alarm for 4 a.m. and take a few dozen more questions from my First Aid books. Head down, “Kryptonite” cranked on my iPod, I wasn’t going to let anyone in that test room outwork me. Neither did he. I put in the time and, like Kobe in the 2002 conference finals against Sacramento, I crushed it.*

When we moved to California, I followed Kobe and the Lakers until he retired. To be clear, I didn’t aspire to be like him, firstly because I’m slightly shorter than Michael Bloomberg, but also because although accomplished, Kobe made some poor choices at times. Indeed, it seems he might have been kinder and more considerate when he was at the top. But in his retirement he looked to be toiling to make reparations, refocusing his prodigious energy and talent for the benefit of others rather than for just for scoring 81 points. His Rolls Royce was there before mine at the gym, and I was there early. He was still getting up early and now preparing to be a great venture capitalist, podcaster, author, and father to his girls.

Watching him carry kettle bells across the floor one morning, I wondered, do people like Kobe Bryant look to others for inspiration? Or are they are born with an endless supply of it? For me, I seemed to push harder and faster when watching idols pass by. Whether it was Kobe or Clayton Christensen (author of “The Innovator’s Dilemma”), Joe Jorizzo, or Barack Obama, I found I could do just a bit more if I had them in mind.

On game days, Kobe spoke of arriving at the arena early, long before anyone. He would use the silent, solo time to reflect on what he needed to do perform that night. I tried this last week, arriving at our clinic early, before any patients or staff. I turned the lights on and took a few minutes to think about what we needed to accomplish that day. I previewed patients on my schedule, searched Up to Date for the latest recommendations on a difficult case. I didn’t know Kobe, but I felt like I did.

CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication

When I received the text that Kobe Bryant had died, I was actually working on this column. So I decided to change the topic to write about people who inspire me, ironically inspired by him again. May he rest in peace.
 

Dr. Benabio is director of Healthcare Transformation and chief of dermatology at Kaiser Permanente San Diego. The opinions expressed in this column are his own and do not represent those of Kaiser Permanente. Dr. Benabio is @Dermdoc on Twitter. Write to him at [email protected].

*This article was updated 2/19/2020.

Kobe Bryant knew me. Not personally, of course. I never received an autograph or shook his hand. But once in a while if I was up early enough, I’d run into Kobe at the gym in Newport Beach where he and I both worked out. As he did for all his fans at the gym, he’d make eye contact with me and nod hello. He was always focused on his workout – working with a trainer, never with headphones on. In person, he appeared enormous. Unlike most retired professional athletes, he still was in great shape. No doubt he could have suited up in purple and gold, and played against the Clippers that night if needed.

Featureflash Photo Agency

Being from New England, I never was a Laker fan. But at Kobe’s peak around 2000, I found him inspiring. I recall watching him play right around the time I was studying for my U.S. medical licensing exams. I thought, if Kobe can head to the gym after midnight and take a 1,000 shots to prepare for a game, then I could set my alarm for 4 a.m. and take a few dozen more questions from my First Aid books. Head down, “Kryptonite” cranked on my iPod, I wasn’t going to let anyone in that test room outwork me. Neither did he. I put in the time and, like Kobe in the 2002 conference finals against Sacramento, I crushed it.*

When we moved to California, I followed Kobe and the Lakers until he retired. To be clear, I didn’t aspire to be like him, firstly because I’m slightly shorter than Michael Bloomberg, but also because although accomplished, Kobe made some poor choices at times. Indeed, it seems he might have been kinder and more considerate when he was at the top. But in his retirement he looked to be toiling to make reparations, refocusing his prodigious energy and talent for the benefit of others rather than for just for scoring 81 points. His Rolls Royce was there before mine at the gym, and I was there early. He was still getting up early and now preparing to be a great venture capitalist, podcaster, author, and father to his girls.

Watching him carry kettle bells across the floor one morning, I wondered, do people like Kobe Bryant look to others for inspiration? Or are they are born with an endless supply of it? For me, I seemed to push harder and faster when watching idols pass by. Whether it was Kobe or Clayton Christensen (author of “The Innovator’s Dilemma”), Joe Jorizzo, or Barack Obama, I found I could do just a bit more if I had them in mind.

On game days, Kobe spoke of arriving at the arena early, long before anyone. He would use the silent, solo time to reflect on what he needed to do perform that night. I tried this last week, arriving at our clinic early, before any patients or staff. I turned the lights on and took a few minutes to think about what we needed to accomplish that day. I previewed patients on my schedule, searched Up to Date for the latest recommendations on a difficult case. I didn’t know Kobe, but I felt like I did.

CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication

When I received the text that Kobe Bryant had died, I was actually working on this column. So I decided to change the topic to write about people who inspire me, ironically inspired by him again. May he rest in peace.
 

Dr. Benabio is director of Healthcare Transformation and chief of dermatology at Kaiser Permanente San Diego. The opinions expressed in this column are his own and do not represent those of Kaiser Permanente. Dr. Benabio is @Dermdoc on Twitter. Write to him at [email protected].

*This article was updated 2/19/2020.

A 13-year-old boy with ADHD, combined type, presents to his family physician with his parents. His parents called for an appointment outside of his routine follow-up care to discuss what they should do to address their son’s new “aggressive behaviors.” He will throw objects when angry, yell, and slam doors at home when he is told to turn off video games. He used to play soccer but doesn’t anymore. He has maintained very good grades and friends. There is not a concern for substance abuse at this time.He speaks in curt sentences during the appointment, and he has his arms crossed or is looking out of the window the entire time.

His parents share in front on him that he has always been a “difficult child” (their words), but they now are struggling to adjust to his aggressive tendencies as he ages. He is growing bigger and angrier. He will not attend therapy and will not see a consultation psychiatrist in the office. A variety of stimulant trials including Ritalin and amphetamine preparations to manage impulsivity in ADHD were ineffective to curb his aggression, and he doesn’t want to take any medication.

They ask, what do we do? They are not worried for their safety but living like this is eroding their quality of life as a family, and the dynamic seems destined to get worse before it gets better.

They wonder, is there a next medication step to manage his aggression?

A family physician presented the above situation to me in my role as a child and adolescent psychiatrist in the medical home. It led us to a fruitful discussion of aggression and what can be done to help families who are all too often in situations like the above, then in your office looking for immediate solutions. The questions are, what can be done with an aggressive child, even and especially without the child’s buy-in to work on that as a problem?

Markus Wegmann/Thinkstock

Psychoeducation can go a long way in helping families rethink aggression as a symptom of something deeper, either in the environment or a diagnosis, although we all can empathize with the desire to reconcile the above behavior immediately.
 

Characterize the aggression

First, it can be helpful to identify a child’s aggression type. There are two types of aggression, reactive and proactive. We most often see reactive aggression in our clinics, which is aggression as a defensive and impulsive response to something in the environment (often limit-setting, as above). Proactive aggression is premeditated and may appear as aggression for aggression’s sake without the emotional drive behind it.

Secondly, it also can be helpful to know that externalizing and internalizing symptoms can represent different sides of the same coin, with the proverbial “coin” as “emotion” and the associated behaviors (throwing objects, in the above example) as the “signs” that there is a complex difficulty in managing painful emotions. Some children (and adults too!) tend to “externalize” strong emotions as aggression or irritability with others, while others “internalize” them by retreating with internal suffering such as “anxiety and depression.” These styles also can be similar among children and their parents.

With those two points in mind, it’s important to consider the diagnosis, which would guide treatment. It’s generally agreed upon that “reactive aggression” is more likely to be related to underlying untreated ADHD, or a depressive or anxiety disorder. This is much more amenable to treatment than aggression related to oppositional defiant disorder or conduct disorder, which are more defined by proactive forms of aggression.

You can pick up on family dynamics that may inadvertently reinforce the same behaviors they so wish to change. In the above example, the parents have clearly identified their son as “the problem.” You can imagine the difficulty of going to school and being a “problem,” and then coming home and feeling the same way. This negative perception can erode a child’s self-esteem over time, which may appear as disengagement or simply not caring in an appointment. It may become harder and harder to engage the child in psychotherapy or even in taking a medication as their only means of resistance to that painful notion about oneself as the “problem.”

It can be useful to begin appointments with “what is going well?” (in the example above, he “has friends and is maintaining grades”) and “what do you like most about your child?” As we all know, positive reinforcement is more powerful than its counterpart. Also problems in a family often are complex, and may involve many family members needing to change to meet their goals, not just the child.
 

Why you should try behavioral interventions first

Behavioral interventions are the first step always. Parents can do behavioral interventions and change their parenting and family environment through their own behavioral changes – commonly called parent management training. They can assess antecedents of aggression and their own responses, which may contribute or perpetuate a cycle of the aggression – such as giving attention or giving in to fewer limitations to avoid a fight. This small but important point can help protect against a feeling of helplessness that a child will not engage in therapy or skills-building.

In answering the clinician’s question about what to do next, I often feel like the question embedded in this is “what medication is next?” There is a felt pressure to do something “right now” conveyed to a clinician. This drives the impulse to prescribe something immediately – and likely more risky and with less of an evidence base – even before trying the known psychotherapy interventions that have the most evidence to change aggressive tendencies.

In looking deeper into this consultation case, I also found more “food for thought” for one’s thinking about aggression and psychopharmacology in cases like the above: Aggression isn’t an uncomplicated symptom that one can address immediately, and therefore we cannot rely on symptom-specific management to eradicate it. This is similar to prescribing Tylenol to manage a general ache or pain; if the pain persists, we want to know the “whys” of the pain persisting.

Thankfully, there are ways that a parent can better understand behaviors with this philosophy in mind. Applied Behavioral Analysis¹ offers some helpful ideas, not only for children with autism spectrum disorder, but that can be applied to one’s understanding of other’s behavior in general. ABA pays attention to antecedents, perpetuating factors, and consequences as well as their interplay in understanding behaviors. You can encourage a family – rather than wanting to “get rid of a problem behavior” – to try to understand it and come up, with help from a psychotherapist or other professional, with a deeper evaluation of the behavior and a specific, collaborative plan.

Most experts see that ADHD, anxiety disorders, depressive disorders, and unrecognized learning disabilities, in sum, are more common underpinnings than not with aggressive children. This also can be confounded by an environment with parents who have those diagnoses untreated as well. Aggression should raise a red flag in our clinics to consider the above even if a family or child simply says aggression is the one issue, and it’s only the child with the issue.

While there have been attempts to find a “spot treatment” for aggression in a medication, medications not only fail to address the underlying issues many times, but have little evidence that support them and may do more harm long term than good.²

Kids need outlets for “normal aggressive drives.” And puberty, as in the case above, is a time of intense emotions of all varieties. In the example above, you may notice that the child is no longer playing soccer, which was likely serving some protective function in many ways for him and as a positive outlet for aggression. In the same way, you may see that kids who are more sedentary or idle (playing unrestricted video games now instead of sports, ) would benefit from revisiting outlets or finding new ones as a family.
 

Consider medications if the underlying diagnosis merits it

We generally seek to find and treat the underlying diagnosis, if it exists, in the following ways.

If a child has ADHD, as in the case above, you can trial a stimulant or an alpha-adrenergic agent to target impulsivity if that is suspected as the driver of aggression. This may include guanfacine (long-acting Intuniv at night, but I would choose lower dosing such as 0.5 mg to 1 mg at bedtime) to manage ADHD. However, the evidence base that management of ADHD improves aggressive behaviors at all or on their own, is scant. In addition, these medications can represent more harm than good as well, although they are perceived as more innocuous than their antipsychotic counterparts. For example, some patients can begin to have bed-wetting accidents in the evening or become sleepy in classes, which can further erode their sense of self-confidence even if this is clearly attributable to a medication side effect and resolves once the agent is reduced or removed.

In the same way to reorient to diagnosis with children with aggression, you can consider an SSRI for an anxiety disorder or irritable depression. But know that it’s a rare thing for children to say specifically that they are struggling with their emotions, whether they are angry, sad, or nervous and that a deeper dive into this may be warranted. Data by Connor DF et al.³ may indicate anxiety disorders should be highest on one’s differential diagnosis in aggression, followed by consideration for ADHD, which may be a different assumption than one would expect.

Mood stabilizers –lamotrigine (Lamictal), divalproex sodium (Depakote), and lithium – and antipsychotics – aripiprazole (Abilify) and risperidone (Risperdal) – are risky medications and the use of them contradicts the first point, agreed upon by most experts, that diagnosis should drive treatment. One is hardly ever treating a young child for psychosis or bipolar disorder in these circumstances of episodic, reactive aggression. Antipsychotics also carry the notorious risks of metabolic syndrome, among other risks to overall health, which becomes an additive risk over time and potentially into adulthood. I once heard in my child adolescent psychiatry training the haunting phase, “yes, they can ‘work’ quickly but they can work ‘almost too well,’ ” meaning they can sedate or tranquilize an aggressive child when the real goal should be to understand, diagnose, and intervene in ways that see the “big picture” of aggression.

Benzodiazepines generally are avoided in children due to disinhibition and often not even considered, in these circumstances, as they are in adults to manage agitation or aggression, due to this fact.

In many instances in working with families, our role in primary care can be one of illuminating children’s behaviors not just as symptoms to treat, but to understand deeply. This is as true for aggression as it is for anxiety.

Finally, I am reminded of the common question I receive from adult patients in primary care who ask me if anyone has yet made a medication to lose weight that’s safe and effective. Then the counseling commences on our fantasies, from our patients and ourselves, about what medications can do for us and our risks therein.
 

Dr. Pawlowski is an adult, adolescent, and child psychiatrist at the University of Vermont Medical Center and assistant professor of psychiatry at the Larner College of Medicine at UVM in Burlington. Email her at [email protected].
 

References

1. ABA in the Treatment of Aggressive Behavior Disorder and Lack of Impulse Control.

2. Managing Aggression in Children: A Practical Approach, The Carlat Child Psychiatry Report, May 2010, The Explosive Child.

3. Child Psychiatry Hum Dev. 2006 May;37[1]:1-14.

A 13-year-old boy with ADHD, combined type, presents to his family physician with his parents. His parents called for an appointment outside of his routine follow-up care to discuss what they should do to address their son’s new “aggressive behaviors.” He will throw objects when angry, yell, and slam doors at home when he is told to turn off video games. He used to play soccer but doesn’t anymore. He has maintained very good grades and friends. There is not a concern for substance abuse at this time.He speaks in curt sentences during the appointment, and he has his arms crossed or is looking out of the window the entire time.

His parents share in front on him that he has always been a “difficult child” (their words), but they now are struggling to adjust to his aggressive tendencies as he ages. He is growing bigger and angrier. He will not attend therapy and will not see a consultation psychiatrist in the office. A variety of stimulant trials including Ritalin and amphetamine preparations to manage impulsivity in ADHD were ineffective to curb his aggression, and he doesn’t want to take any medication.

They ask, what do we do? They are not worried for their safety but living like this is eroding their quality of life as a family, and the dynamic seems destined to get worse before it gets better.

They wonder, is there a next medication step to manage his aggression?

A family physician presented the above situation to me in my role as a child and adolescent psychiatrist in the medical home. It led us to a fruitful discussion of aggression and what can be done to help families who are all too often in situations like the above, then in your office looking for immediate solutions. The questions are, what can be done with an aggressive child, even and especially without the child’s buy-in to work on that as a problem?

Markus Wegmann/Thinkstock

Psychoeducation can go a long way in helping families rethink aggression as a symptom of something deeper, either in the environment or a diagnosis, although we all can empathize with the desire to reconcile the above behavior immediately.
 

Characterize the aggression

First, it can be helpful to identify a child’s aggression type. There are two types of aggression, reactive and proactive. We most often see reactive aggression in our clinics, which is aggression as a defensive and impulsive response to something in the environment (often limit-setting, as above). Proactive aggression is premeditated and may appear as aggression for aggression’s sake without the emotional drive behind it.

Secondly, it also can be helpful to know that externalizing and internalizing symptoms can represent different sides of the same coin, with the proverbial “coin” as “emotion” and the associated behaviors (throwing objects, in the above example) as the “signs” that there is a complex difficulty in managing painful emotions. Some children (and adults too!) tend to “externalize” strong emotions as aggression or irritability with others, while others “internalize” them by retreating with internal suffering such as “anxiety and depression.” These styles also can be similar among children and their parents.

With those two points in mind, it’s important to consider the diagnosis, which would guide treatment. It’s generally agreed upon that “reactive aggression” is more likely to be related to underlying untreated ADHD, or a depressive or anxiety disorder. This is much more amenable to treatment than aggression related to oppositional defiant disorder or conduct disorder, which are more defined by proactive forms of aggression.

You can pick up on family dynamics that may inadvertently reinforce the same behaviors they so wish to change. In the above example, the parents have clearly identified their son as “the problem.” You can imagine the difficulty of going to school and being a “problem,” and then coming home and feeling the same way. This negative perception can erode a child’s self-esteem over time, which may appear as disengagement or simply not caring in an appointment. It may become harder and harder to engage the child in psychotherapy or even in taking a medication as their only means of resistance to that painful notion about oneself as the “problem.”

It can be useful to begin appointments with “what is going well?” (in the example above, he “has friends and is maintaining grades”) and “what do you like most about your child?” As we all know, positive reinforcement is more powerful than its counterpart. Also problems in a family often are complex, and may involve many family members needing to change to meet their goals, not just the child.
 

Why you should try behavioral interventions first

Behavioral interventions are the first step always. Parents can do behavioral interventions and change their parenting and family environment through their own behavioral changes – commonly called parent management training. They can assess antecedents of aggression and their own responses, which may contribute or perpetuate a cycle of the aggression – such as giving attention or giving in to fewer limitations to avoid a fight. This small but important point can help protect against a feeling of helplessness that a child will not engage in therapy or skills-building.

In answering the clinician’s question about what to do next, I often feel like the question embedded in this is “what medication is next?” There is a felt pressure to do something “right now” conveyed to a clinician. This drives the impulse to prescribe something immediately – and likely more risky and with less of an evidence base – even before trying the known psychotherapy interventions that have the most evidence to change aggressive tendencies.

In looking deeper into this consultation case, I also found more “food for thought” for one’s thinking about aggression and psychopharmacology in cases like the above: Aggression isn’t an uncomplicated symptom that one can address immediately, and therefore we cannot rely on symptom-specific management to eradicate it. This is similar to prescribing Tylenol to manage a general ache or pain; if the pain persists, we want to know the “whys” of the pain persisting.

Thankfully, there are ways that a parent can better understand behaviors with this philosophy in mind. Applied Behavioral Analysis¹ offers some helpful ideas, not only for children with autism spectrum disorder, but that can be applied to one’s understanding of other’s behavior in general. ABA pays attention to antecedents, perpetuating factors, and consequences as well as their interplay in understanding behaviors. You can encourage a family – rather than wanting to “get rid of a problem behavior” – to try to understand it and come up, with help from a psychotherapist or other professional, with a deeper evaluation of the behavior and a specific, collaborative plan.

Most experts see that ADHD, anxiety disorders, depressive disorders, and unrecognized learning disabilities, in sum, are more common underpinnings than not with aggressive children. This also can be confounded by an environment with parents who have those diagnoses untreated as well. Aggression should raise a red flag in our clinics to consider the above even if a family or child simply says aggression is the one issue, and it’s only the child with the issue.

While there have been attempts to find a “spot treatment” for aggression in a medication, medications not only fail to address the underlying issues many times, but have little evidence that support them and may do more harm long term than good.²

Kids need outlets for “normal aggressive drives.” And puberty, as in the case above, is a time of intense emotions of all varieties. In the example above, you may notice that the child is no longer playing soccer, which was likely serving some protective function in many ways for him and as a positive outlet for aggression. In the same way, you may see that kids who are more sedentary or idle (playing unrestricted video games now instead of sports, ) would benefit from revisiting outlets or finding new ones as a family.
 

Consider medications if the underlying diagnosis merits it

We generally seek to find and treat the underlying diagnosis, if it exists, in the following ways.

If a child has ADHD, as in the case above, you can trial a stimulant or an alpha-adrenergic agent to target impulsivity if that is suspected as the driver of aggression. This may include guanfacine (long-acting Intuniv at night, but I would choose lower dosing such as 0.5 mg to 1 mg at bedtime) to manage ADHD. However, the evidence base that management of ADHD improves aggressive behaviors at all or on their own, is scant. In addition, these medications can represent more harm than good as well, although they are perceived as more innocuous than their antipsychotic counterparts. For example, some patients can begin to have bed-wetting accidents in the evening or become sleepy in classes, which can further erode their sense of self-confidence even if this is clearly attributable to a medication side effect and resolves once the agent is reduced or removed.

In the same way to reorient to diagnosis with children with aggression, you can consider an SSRI for an anxiety disorder or irritable depression. But know that it’s a rare thing for children to say specifically that they are struggling with their emotions, whether they are angry, sad, or nervous and that a deeper dive into this may be warranted. Data by Connor DF et al.³ may indicate anxiety disorders should be highest on one’s differential diagnosis in aggression, followed by consideration for ADHD, which may be a different assumption than one would expect.

Mood stabilizers –lamotrigine (Lamictal), divalproex sodium (Depakote), and lithium – and antipsychotics – aripiprazole (Abilify) and risperidone (Risperdal) – are risky medications and the use of them contradicts the first point, agreed upon by most experts, that diagnosis should drive treatment. One is hardly ever treating a young child for psychosis or bipolar disorder in these circumstances of episodic, reactive aggression. Antipsychotics also carry the notorious risks of metabolic syndrome, among other risks to overall health, which becomes an additive risk over time and potentially into adulthood. I once heard in my child adolescent psychiatry training the haunting phase, “yes, they can ‘work’ quickly but they can work ‘almost too well,’ ” meaning they can sedate or tranquilize an aggressive child when the real goal should be to understand, diagnose, and intervene in ways that see the “big picture” of aggression.

Benzodiazepines generally are avoided in children due to disinhibition and often not even considered, in these circumstances, as they are in adults to manage agitation or aggression, due to this fact.

In many instances in working with families, our role in primary care can be one of illuminating children’s behaviors not just as symptoms to treat, but to understand deeply. This is as true for aggression as it is for anxiety.

Finally, I am reminded of the common question I receive from adult patients in primary care who ask me if anyone has yet made a medication to lose weight that’s safe and effective. Then the counseling commences on our fantasies, from our patients and ourselves, about what medications can do for us and our risks therein.
 

Dr. Pawlowski is an adult, adolescent, and child psychiatrist at the University of Vermont Medical Center and assistant professor of psychiatry at the Larner College of Medicine at UVM in Burlington. Email her at [email protected].
 

References

1. ABA in the Treatment of Aggressive Behavior Disorder and Lack of Impulse Control.

2. Managing Aggression in Children: A Practical Approach, The Carlat Child Psychiatry Report, May 2010, The Explosive Child.

3. Child Psychiatry Hum Dev. 2006 May;37[1]:1-14.

A 13-year-old boy with ADHD, combined type, presents to his family physician with his parents. His parents called for an appointment outside of his routine follow-up care to discuss what they should do to address their son’s new “aggressive behaviors.” He will throw objects when angry, yell, and slam doors at home when he is told to turn off video games. He used to play soccer but doesn’t anymore. He has maintained very good grades and friends. There is not a concern for substance abuse at this time.He speaks in curt sentences during the appointment, and he has his arms crossed or is looking out of the window the entire time.

His parents share in front on him that he has always been a “difficult child” (their words), but they now are struggling to adjust to his aggressive tendencies as he ages. He is growing bigger and angrier. He will not attend therapy and will not see a consultation psychiatrist in the office. A variety of stimulant trials including Ritalin and amphetamine preparations to manage impulsivity in ADHD were ineffective to curb his aggression, and he doesn’t want to take any medication.

They ask, what do we do? They are not worried for their safety but living like this is eroding their quality of life as a family, and the dynamic seems destined to get worse before it gets better.

They wonder, is there a next medication step to manage his aggression?

A family physician presented the above situation to me in my role as a child and adolescent psychiatrist in the medical home. It led us to a fruitful discussion of aggression and what can be done to help families who are all too often in situations like the above, then in your office looking for immediate solutions. The questions are, what can be done with an aggressive child, even and especially without the child’s buy-in to work on that as a problem?

Markus Wegmann/Thinkstock

Psychoeducation can go a long way in helping families rethink aggression as a symptom of something deeper, either in the environment or a diagnosis, although we all can empathize with the desire to reconcile the above behavior immediately.
 

Characterize the aggression

First, it can be helpful to identify a child’s aggression type. There are two types of aggression, reactive and proactive. We most often see reactive aggression in our clinics, which is aggression as a defensive and impulsive response to something in the environment (often limit-setting, as above). Proactive aggression is premeditated and may appear as aggression for aggression’s sake without the emotional drive behind it.

Secondly, it also can be helpful to know that externalizing and internalizing symptoms can represent different sides of the same coin, with the proverbial “coin” as “emotion” and the associated behaviors (throwing objects, in the above example) as the “signs” that there is a complex difficulty in managing painful emotions. Some children (and adults too!) tend to “externalize” strong emotions as aggression or irritability with others, while others “internalize” them by retreating with internal suffering such as “anxiety and depression.” These styles also can be similar among children and their parents.

With those two points in mind, it’s important to consider the diagnosis, which would guide treatment. It’s generally agreed upon that “reactive aggression” is more likely to be related to underlying untreated ADHD, or a depressive or anxiety disorder. This is much more amenable to treatment than aggression related to oppositional defiant disorder or conduct disorder, which are more defined by proactive forms of aggression.

You can pick up on family dynamics that may inadvertently reinforce the same behaviors they so wish to change. In the above example, the parents have clearly identified their son as “the problem.” You can imagine the difficulty of going to school and being a “problem,” and then coming home and feeling the same way. This negative perception can erode a child’s self-esteem over time, which may appear as disengagement or simply not caring in an appointment. It may become harder and harder to engage the child in psychotherapy or even in taking a medication as their only means of resistance to that painful notion about oneself as the “problem.”

It can be useful to begin appointments with “what is going well?” (in the example above, he “has friends and is maintaining grades”) and “what do you like most about your child?” As we all know, positive reinforcement is more powerful than its counterpart. Also problems in a family often are complex, and may involve many family members needing to change to meet their goals, not just the child.
 

Why you should try behavioral interventions first

Behavioral interventions are the first step always. Parents can do behavioral interventions and change their parenting and family environment through their own behavioral changes – commonly called parent management training. They can assess antecedents of aggression and their own responses, which may contribute or perpetuate a cycle of the aggression – such as giving attention or giving in to fewer limitations to avoid a fight. This small but important point can help protect against a feeling of helplessness that a child will not engage in therapy or skills-building.

In answering the clinician’s question about what to do next, I often feel like the question embedded in this is “what medication is next?” There is a felt pressure to do something “right now” conveyed to a clinician. This drives the impulse to prescribe something immediately – and likely more risky and with less of an evidence base – even before trying the known psychotherapy interventions that have the most evidence to change aggressive tendencies.

In looking deeper into this consultation case, I also found more “food for thought” for one’s thinking about aggression and psychopharmacology in cases like the above: Aggression isn’t an uncomplicated symptom that one can address immediately, and therefore we cannot rely on symptom-specific management to eradicate it. This is similar to prescribing Tylenol to manage a general ache or pain; if the pain persists, we want to know the “whys” of the pain persisting.

Thankfully, there are ways that a parent can better understand behaviors with this philosophy in mind. Applied Behavioral Analysis¹ offers some helpful ideas, not only for children with autism spectrum disorder, but that can be applied to one’s understanding of other’s behavior in general. ABA pays attention to antecedents, perpetuating factors, and consequences as well as their interplay in understanding behaviors. You can encourage a family – rather than wanting to “get rid of a problem behavior” – to try to understand it and come up, with help from a psychotherapist or other professional, with a deeper evaluation of the behavior and a specific, collaborative plan.

Most experts see that ADHD, anxiety disorders, depressive disorders, and unrecognized learning disabilities, in sum, are more common underpinnings than not with aggressive children. This also can be confounded by an environment with parents who have those diagnoses untreated as well. Aggression should raise a red flag in our clinics to consider the above even if a family or child simply says aggression is the one issue, and it’s only the child with the issue.

While there have been attempts to find a “spot treatment” for aggression in a medication, medications not only fail to address the underlying issues many times, but have little evidence that support them and may do more harm long term than good.²

Kids need outlets for “normal aggressive drives.” And puberty, as in the case above, is a time of intense emotions of all varieties. In the example above, you may notice that the child is no longer playing soccer, which was likely serving some protective function in many ways for him and as a positive outlet for aggression. In the same way, you may see that kids who are more sedentary or idle (playing unrestricted video games now instead of sports, ) would benefit from revisiting outlets or finding new ones as a family.
 

Consider medications if the underlying diagnosis merits it

We generally seek to find and treat the underlying diagnosis, if it exists, in the following ways.

If a child has ADHD, as in the case above, you can trial a stimulant or an alpha-adrenergic agent to target impulsivity if that is suspected as the driver of aggression. This may include guanfacine (long-acting Intuniv at night, but I would choose lower dosing such as 0.5 mg to 1 mg at bedtime) to manage ADHD. However, the evidence base that management of ADHD improves aggressive behaviors at all or on their own, is scant. In addition, these medications can represent more harm than good as well, although they are perceived as more innocuous than their antipsychotic counterparts. For example, some patients can begin to have bed-wetting accidents in the evening or become sleepy in classes, which can further erode their sense of self-confidence even if this is clearly attributable to a medication side effect and resolves once the agent is reduced or removed.

In the same way to reorient to diagnosis with children with aggression, you can consider an SSRI for an anxiety disorder or irritable depression. But know that it’s a rare thing for children to say specifically that they are struggling with their emotions, whether they are angry, sad, or nervous and that a deeper dive into this may be warranted. Data by Connor DF et al.³ may indicate anxiety disorders should be highest on one’s differential diagnosis in aggression, followed by consideration for ADHD, which may be a different assumption than one would expect.

Mood stabilizers –lamotrigine (Lamictal), divalproex sodium (Depakote), and lithium – and antipsychotics – aripiprazole (Abilify) and risperidone (Risperdal) – are risky medications and the use of them contradicts the first point, agreed upon by most experts, that diagnosis should drive treatment. One is hardly ever treating a young child for psychosis or bipolar disorder in these circumstances of episodic, reactive aggression. Antipsychotics also carry the notorious risks of metabolic syndrome, among other risks to overall health, which becomes an additive risk over time and potentially into adulthood. I once heard in my child adolescent psychiatry training the haunting phase, “yes, they can ‘work’ quickly but they can work ‘almost too well,’ ” meaning they can sedate or tranquilize an aggressive child when the real goal should be to understand, diagnose, and intervene in ways that see the “big picture” of aggression.

Benzodiazepines generally are avoided in children due to disinhibition and often not even considered, in these circumstances, as they are in adults to manage agitation or aggression, due to this fact.

In many instances in working with families, our role in primary care can be one of illuminating children’s behaviors not just as symptoms to treat, but to understand deeply. This is as true for aggression as it is for anxiety.

Finally, I am reminded of the common question I receive from adult patients in primary care who ask me if anyone has yet made a medication to lose weight that’s safe and effective. Then the counseling commences on our fantasies, from our patients and ourselves, about what medications can do for us and our risks therein.
 

Dr. Pawlowski is an adult, adolescent, and child psychiatrist at the University of Vermont Medical Center and assistant professor of psychiatry at the Larner College of Medicine at UVM in Burlington. Email her at [email protected].
 

References

1. ABA in the Treatment of Aggressive Behavior Disorder and Lack of Impulse Control.

2. Managing Aggression in Children: A Practical Approach, The Carlat Child Psychiatry Report, May 2010, The Explosive Child.

3. Child Psychiatry Hum Dev. 2006 May;37[1]:1-14.

As I write this, the 2019 novel coronavirus* continues to spread, exceeding 59,000 cases and 1,300 deaths worldwide. With it spreads fear. In the modern world of social media, misinformation spreads even faster than disease.

Delpixel/Shutterstock

The news about a novel and deadly illness crowds out more substantial worries. Humans are not particularly good at assessing risk or responding rationally and consistently to it. Risk is hard to fully define. If you look up “risk” in Merriam Webster’s online dictionary, you get the simple definition of “possibility of loss or injury; peril.” If you look up risk in Wikipedia, you get 12 pages of explanation and 8 more pages of links and references.

People handle risk differently. Some people are more risk adverse than others. Some get a pleasurable thrill from risk, whether a slot machine or a parachute jump. Most people really don’t comprehend small probabilities, with tens of billions of dollars spent annually on U.S. lotteries.

Because 98% of people who get COVID-19 are recovering, this is not an extinction-level event or the zombie apocalypse. It is a major health hazard, and one where morbidity and mortality might be assuaged by an early and effective public health response, including the population’s adoption of good habits such as hand washing, cough etiquette, and staying home when ill. But fear, discrimination, and misinformation may do more damage than the virus itself.

Three key factors may help reduce the fear factor.

One key factor is accurate communication of health information to the public. This has been severely harmed in the last few years by the promotion of gossip on social media, such as Facebook, within newsfeeds without any vetting, along with a smaller component of deliberate misinformation from untraceable sources. Compare this situation with the decision in May 1988 when Surgeon General C. Everett Koop chose to snail mail a brochure on AIDS to every household in America. It was unprecedented. One element of this communication is the public’s belief that government and health care officials will responsibly and timely convey the information. There are accusations that the Chinese government initially impeded early warnings about COVID-19. Dr. Koop, to his great credit and lifesaving leadership, overcame queasiness within the Reagan administration about issues of morality and taste in discussing some of the HIV information. Alas, no similar leadership occurred in the decade of the 2010s when deaths from the opioid epidemic in the United States skyrocketed to claim more lives annually than car accidents or suicide.

A second factor is the credibility of the scientists. Antivaxxers, climate change deniers, and mercenary scientists have severely damaged that credibility of science, compared with the trust in scientists 50 years ago during the Apollo moon shot.

A third factor is perspective. Poor journalism and clickbait can focus excessively on the rare events as news. Airline crashes make the front page while fatal car accidents, claiming a hundred times more lives annually, don’t even merit a story in local media. Someone wins the lottery weekly but few pay attention to those suffering from gambling debts.

Influenza is killing many times more people than the 2019 novel coronavirus, but the news is focused on cruise ships. In the United States, influenza annually will strike tens of millions, with about 10 per 1,000 hospitalized and 0.5 per 1,000 dying. The novel coronavirus is more lethal. SARS (a coronavirus epidemic in 2003) had 8,000 cases with a mortality rate of 96 per 1,000 while the novel 2019 strain so far is killing about 20 per 1,000. That value may be an overestimate, because there may be a significant fraction of COVID-19 patients with symptoms mild enough that they do not seek medical care and do not get tested and counted.

For perspective, in 1952 the United States reported 50,000 cases of polio (meningitis or paralytic) annually with 3,000 deaths. As many as 95% of cases of poliovirus infection have no or mild symptoms and would not have been reported, so the case fatality rate estimate is skewed. In the 1950s, the United States averaged about 500,000 cases of measles per year, with about 500 deaths annually for a case fatality rate of about 1 per 1,000 in a population that was well nourished with good medical care. In malnourished children without access to modern health care, the case fatality rate can be as high as 100 per 1,000, which is why globally measles killed 142,000 people in 2018, a substantial improvement from 536,000 deaths globally in 2000, but still a leading killer of children worldwide. Vaccines had reduced the annual death toll of polio and measles in the U.S. to zero.

In comparison, in this country the annual incidences are about 70,000 overdose deaths, 50,000 suicides, and 40,000 traffic deaths.

Reassurance is the most common product sold by pediatricians. We look for low-probability, high-impact bad things. Usually we don’t find them and can reassure parents that the child will be okay. Sometimes we spot a higher-risk situation and intervene. My job is to worry professionally so that parents can worry less.

COVID-19 worries me, but irrational people worry me more. The real enemies are fear, disinformation, discrimination, and economic warfare.
 

Dr. Powell is a pediatric hospitalist and clinical ethics consultant living in St. Louis. Email him at [email protected].

*This article was updated 2/21/2020.

As I write this, the 2019 novel coronavirus* continues to spread, exceeding 59,000 cases and 1,300 deaths worldwide. With it spreads fear. In the modern world of social media, misinformation spreads even faster than disease.

Delpixel/Shutterstock

The news about a novel and deadly illness crowds out more substantial worries. Humans are not particularly good at assessing risk or responding rationally and consistently to it. Risk is hard to fully define. If you look up “risk” in Merriam Webster’s online dictionary, you get the simple definition of “possibility of loss or injury; peril.” If you look up risk in Wikipedia, you get 12 pages of explanation and 8 more pages of links and references.

People handle risk differently. Some people are more risk adverse than others. Some get a pleasurable thrill from risk, whether a slot machine or a parachute jump. Most people really don’t comprehend small probabilities, with tens of billions of dollars spent annually on U.S. lotteries.

Because 98% of people who get COVID-19 are recovering, this is not an extinction-level event or the zombie apocalypse. It is a major health hazard, and one where morbidity and mortality might be assuaged by an early and effective public health response, including the population’s adoption of good habits such as hand washing, cough etiquette, and staying home when ill. But fear, discrimination, and misinformation may do more damage than the virus itself.

Three key factors may help reduce the fear factor.

One key factor is accurate communication of health information to the public. This has been severely harmed in the last few years by the promotion of gossip on social media, such as Facebook, within newsfeeds without any vetting, along with a smaller component of deliberate misinformation from untraceable sources. Compare this situation with the decision in May 1988 when Surgeon General C. Everett Koop chose to snail mail a brochure on AIDS to every household in America. It was unprecedented. One element of this communication is the public’s belief that government and health care officials will responsibly and timely convey the information. There are accusations that the Chinese government initially impeded early warnings about COVID-19. Dr. Koop, to his great credit and lifesaving leadership, overcame queasiness within the Reagan administration about issues of morality and taste in discussing some of the HIV information. Alas, no similar leadership occurred in the decade of the 2010s when deaths from the opioid epidemic in the United States skyrocketed to claim more lives annually than car accidents or suicide.

A second factor is the credibility of the scientists. Antivaxxers, climate change deniers, and mercenary scientists have severely damaged that credibility of science, compared with the trust in scientists 50 years ago during the Apollo moon shot.

A third factor is perspective. Poor journalism and clickbait can focus excessively on the rare events as news. Airline crashes make the front page while fatal car accidents, claiming a hundred times more lives annually, don’t even merit a story in local media. Someone wins the lottery weekly but few pay attention to those suffering from gambling debts.

Influenza is killing many times more people than the 2019 novel coronavirus, but the news is focused on cruise ships. In the United States, influenza annually will strike tens of millions, with about 10 per 1,000 hospitalized and 0.5 per 1,000 dying. The novel coronavirus is more lethal. SARS (a coronavirus epidemic in 2003) had 8,000 cases with a mortality rate of 96 per 1,000 while the novel 2019 strain so far is killing about 20 per 1,000. That value may be an overestimate, because there may be a significant fraction of COVID-19 patients with symptoms mild enough that they do not seek medical care and do not get tested and counted.

For perspective, in 1952 the United States reported 50,000 cases of polio (meningitis or paralytic) annually with 3,000 deaths. As many as 95% of cases of poliovirus infection have no or mild symptoms and would not have been reported, so the case fatality rate estimate is skewed. In the 1950s, the United States averaged about 500,000 cases of measles per year, with about 500 deaths annually for a case fatality rate of about 1 per 1,000 in a population that was well nourished with good medical care. In malnourished children without access to modern health care, the case fatality rate can be as high as 100 per 1,000, which is why globally measles killed 142,000 people in 2018, a substantial improvement from 536,000 deaths globally in 2000, but still a leading killer of children worldwide. Vaccines had reduced the annual death toll of polio and measles in the U.S. to zero.

In comparison, in this country the annual incidences are about 70,000 overdose deaths, 50,000 suicides, and 40,000 traffic deaths.

Reassurance is the most common product sold by pediatricians. We look for low-probability, high-impact bad things. Usually we don’t find them and can reassure parents that the child will be okay. Sometimes we spot a higher-risk situation and intervene. My job is to worry professionally so that parents can worry less.

COVID-19 worries me, but irrational people worry me more. The real enemies are fear, disinformation, discrimination, and economic warfare.
 

Dr. Powell is a pediatric hospitalist and clinical ethics consultant living in St. Louis. Email him at [email protected].

*This article was updated 2/21/2020.

As I write this, the 2019 novel coronavirus* continues to spread, exceeding 59,000 cases and 1,300 deaths worldwide. With it spreads fear. In the modern world of social media, misinformation spreads even faster than disease.

Delpixel/Shutterstock

The news about a novel and deadly illness crowds out more substantial worries. Humans are not particularly good at assessing risk or responding rationally and consistently to it. Risk is hard to fully define. If you look up “risk” in Merriam Webster’s online dictionary, you get the simple definition of “possibility of loss or injury; peril.” If you look up risk in Wikipedia, you get 12 pages of explanation and 8 more pages of links and references.

People handle risk differently. Some people are more risk adverse than others. Some get a pleasurable thrill from risk, whether a slot machine or a parachute jump. Most people really don’t comprehend small probabilities, with tens of billions of dollars spent annually on U.S. lotteries.

Because 98% of people who get COVID-19 are recovering, this is not an extinction-level event or the zombie apocalypse. It is a major health hazard, and one where morbidity and mortality might be assuaged by an early and effective public health response, including the population’s adoption of good habits such as hand washing, cough etiquette, and staying home when ill. But fear, discrimination, and misinformation may do more damage than the virus itself.

Three key factors may help reduce the fear factor.

One key factor is accurate communication of health information to the public. This has been severely harmed in the last few years by the promotion of gossip on social media, such as Facebook, within newsfeeds without any vetting, along with a smaller component of deliberate misinformation from untraceable sources. Compare this situation with the decision in May 1988 when Surgeon General C. Everett Koop chose to snail mail a brochure on AIDS to every household in America. It was unprecedented. One element of this communication is the public’s belief that government and health care officials will responsibly and timely convey the information. There are accusations that the Chinese government initially impeded early warnings about COVID-19. Dr. Koop, to his great credit and lifesaving leadership, overcame queasiness within the Reagan administration about issues of morality and taste in discussing some of the HIV information. Alas, no similar leadership occurred in the decade of the 2010s when deaths from the opioid epidemic in the United States skyrocketed to claim more lives annually than car accidents or suicide.

A second factor is the credibility of the scientists. Antivaxxers, climate change deniers, and mercenary scientists have severely damaged that credibility of science, compared with the trust in scientists 50 years ago during the Apollo moon shot.

A third factor is perspective. Poor journalism and clickbait can focus excessively on the rare events as news. Airline crashes make the front page while fatal car accidents, claiming a hundred times more lives annually, don’t even merit a story in local media. Someone wins the lottery weekly but few pay attention to those suffering from gambling debts.

Influenza is killing many times more people than the 2019 novel coronavirus, but the news is focused on cruise ships. In the United States, influenza annually will strike tens of millions, with about 10 per 1,000 hospitalized and 0.5 per 1,000 dying. The novel coronavirus is more lethal. SARS (a coronavirus epidemic in 2003) had 8,000 cases with a mortality rate of 96 per 1,000 while the novel 2019 strain so far is killing about 20 per 1,000. That value may be an overestimate, because there may be a significant fraction of COVID-19 patients with symptoms mild enough that they do not seek medical care and do not get tested and counted.

For perspective, in 1952 the United States reported 50,000 cases of polio (meningitis or paralytic) annually with 3,000 deaths. As many as 95% of cases of poliovirus infection have no or mild symptoms and would not have been reported, so the case fatality rate estimate is skewed. In the 1950s, the United States averaged about 500,000 cases of measles per year, with about 500 deaths annually for a case fatality rate of about 1 per 1,000 in a population that was well nourished with good medical care. In malnourished children without access to modern health care, the case fatality rate can be as high as 100 per 1,000, which is why globally measles killed 142,000 people in 2018, a substantial improvement from 536,000 deaths globally in 2000, but still a leading killer of children worldwide. Vaccines had reduced the annual death toll of polio and measles in the U.S. to zero.

In comparison, in this country the annual incidences are about 70,000 overdose deaths, 50,000 suicides, and 40,000 traffic deaths.

Reassurance is the most common product sold by pediatricians. We look for low-probability, high-impact bad things. Usually we don’t find them and can reassure parents that the child will be okay. Sometimes we spot a higher-risk situation and intervene. My job is to worry professionally so that parents can worry less.

COVID-19 worries me, but irrational people worry me more. The real enemies are fear, disinformation, discrimination, and economic warfare.
 

Dr. Powell is a pediatric hospitalist and clinical ethics consultant living in St. Louis. Email him at [email protected].

*This article was updated 2/21/2020.

Whether “retirement” is withdrawing from one’s occupation or from an active working life, it is of utmost importance to not let one’s mind degenerate. Some individuals move on to gathering new intellectual skills by attending new educational courses or meetings, some travel, some become semiprofessional golfers or fishermen, and some find other forms of personal extension. I now serve to develop cost-saving medical programs for county jails in the state of Texas while attempting to improve the overall quality of inmate care.

Initially I was a pediatrician in Houston with special training in allergy and immunology, but because of a medical problem I was forced to abandon my first love – primary pediatrics. My move to a small town at the age of 40 required me to reevaluate my professional life, and I opted to provide care only in my allergy and immunology specialty.

However, living in a small town is different from life in a metropolis, and it was not uncommon for doctors to be asked to assist the community. A number of years ago, our county judge asked if I would help evaluate why our county jail was spending so much money. After several attempts to refuse, I eventually did evaluate the program there, and was flabbergasted by how much money was being wasted. I made some rather simple suggestions as how to correct the problem, but when no primary care doctor stepped forward to implement the changes and run the jail medical program, I became its medical director. When we saved $120,000 the first year, even I was astounded.

While I continued to run my private practice, I did accept other small community’s offers to look into their county jails’ programs. I found that their problems in cost control and quality of health care mirrored those I found in the first jail, and they were easily solvable if the county judge and the local sheriff wanted solutions. I also found that politics makes strange bedfellows, as the saying goes, and often the obvious changes were met with obstruction in one form or another. Nonetheless, I found that I could serve these communities in addition to my individual patients. When it was time for retirement, I continued to have a real desire to make the towns around which I lived and my own community more livable. So I made my retirement life one that included jail medicine.

In most things, I found that the same business philosophy and personal medical approach I learned in my pediatrics training and as a private practitioner applied to the jail system. Let me mention some specifics. Using generic medicines was less expensive than using brand names. The diagnoses which patients claimed when they entered jail might or might not be correct, so reevaluating the diagnosis and treatment was appropriate as soon as possible. Hospital and ED visits should be limited to patients’ medically requiring them rather than using the ED as a screening tool.

But I did come to understand that medical care in the county jail is different from medical care outside an incarcerated facility in that sometimes the prisoners had their own reasons for seeking medical care. This was complicated by the fact that often there were critically ill patients presenting to county jails. So carefully established criteria and protocols were an absolute necessity to save lives.

Let me expand on the topic of seeking medical care by the inmate-patients. A relatively small number of these individuals required immediate emergency treatment, without which they could not do well: The diabetic who was not taking his insulin, the out-of-control paranoid schizophrenic who decided he was cured and therefore was unattended, the alcoholic or drug addict who would develop delirium tremens if medications were stopped abruptly. These people had to be identified as quickly as possible and correctly treated. Confounding the problem was the fact that many, and I repeat many, individuals try to use the medical route to manipulate their incarceration environment. I called this the B problem: beds, blankets, barter, buzz, better food, and be out of here. They might claim an illness existed, and often they might believe it did.

A related situation might exist when individuals would demand psychiatric and pain medications, often in large quantities, when they in fact had not taken them for some time in the outside world. Often these patients were addicts, and of course this could create an entire other relationship with the medical team. A third example would be the claim of hypoglycemia so that the prisoner would receive more frequent meals.

One might think that as a pediatrician I was ill prepared to treat adults, and in fact, there was much review of the general medical care needed when I began this program. However, the internists and family physicians in town were glad to assist me whenever I encountered a difficult patient. When hospitalizations were required, the inpatient always was covered by one of the internists on hospital staff. Quite frankly, the doctors seemed pleased to not be dealing with this group of individuals as much as they had in the past.

On a slightly different note, skills honed during my pediatric career were extremely valuable. Children, particularly young children, do not verbally communicate with their parents or their doctor particularly well, so pediatricians are well trained in the skill of observation. The patient who claims a guard hurt his shoulder so badly during an altercation that he cannot move it is found out when he easily whips his arms over his head when asked to remove his shirt. It is not uncommon for an individual to demand antidepressant medications from the medical staff, but when evaluated more thoroughly and for a longer period of time, the patient ends up laughing, even denying any suicidal ideation or any other sign of depression. One also deals with a lot of adolescent behavior from the inmates, such as the individuals who say that unless they don’t get their way (more food) they are not going to take their medications and thus get sicker. That’s Adolescent Medicine 101.

Some of the modalities I utilized in modifying the jail programs will be familiar to every practicing pediatrician. I educate; I teach; I train. Parents of my asthmatic patients had to know what medications to keep handy and when to use them. It is pretty easy to see how that relates to jail medicine. Many patients come into jail with inhalers and with a diagnosis of asthma. Some have the condition, and some do not. By training jail and medical staff how to observe breathing patterns and by performing pulse oximetry, we eliminated a large number of unnecessary ED visits, and we often made the diagnosis of hyperventilation syndrome rather than misdiagnosed asthma.

Jail medicine is a large part of the cost of housing inmates. I did consultation work for a large urban jail, and we saved over $7 million in 1 year. In a medium-sized jail, the cost-savings after a 4-month consultation was over $300,000. This is a lot of money to me, and I suspect is to you, too. Just as in our general communities, we have enough resources to provide medical care and to provide a high level of care for all. However, we cannot waste money by providing inappropriate care or overtesting or overtreating. The medical care must be what treats the disease the patient actually has ... nothing more and nothing less!

If it sounds as if I am cynical about inmate patients, that is not true. However, I am realistic that no one wishes to be in jail. I realize that the medical route is just one that prisoners can and do use to modify their situation. I understand that the medical staff within a jail needs constant education and supervision at first, and with time they become more astute – just like a physician in this arena – at distinguishing the very serious from the mildly serious from malingering. In spite of this, we doctors also can be fooled. However, through constant vigilance and constant education we can get better.

Jail medicine is not for everyone in retirement. Heck, it is not for everyone ever. I found it interesting because it required me to match my diagnostic skills against the diseases and the psychodynamics of individuals who often – not always – made that diagnosis more difficult. Diagnosing illness and curing it – isn’t this why we all went into medicine?
 

Dr. Yoffe is a retired pediatrician specializing in allergy and immunology who resides in Brenham, Tex. Email him at [email protected].

This article was updated 2/13/2020.

Whether “retirement” is withdrawing from one’s occupation or from an active working life, it is of utmost importance to not let one’s mind degenerate. Some individuals move on to gathering new intellectual skills by attending new educational courses or meetings, some travel, some become semiprofessional golfers or fishermen, and some find other forms of personal extension. I now serve to develop cost-saving medical programs for county jails in the state of Texas while attempting to improve the overall quality of inmate care.

Initially I was a pediatrician in Houston with special training in allergy and immunology, but because of a medical problem I was forced to abandon my first love – primary pediatrics. My move to a small town at the age of 40 required me to reevaluate my professional life, and I opted to provide care only in my allergy and immunology specialty.

However, living in a small town is different from life in a metropolis, and it was not uncommon for doctors to be asked to assist the community. A number of years ago, our county judge asked if I would help evaluate why our county jail was spending so much money. After several attempts to refuse, I eventually did evaluate the program there, and was flabbergasted by how much money was being wasted. I made some rather simple suggestions as how to correct the problem, but when no primary care doctor stepped forward to implement the changes and run the jail medical program, I became its medical director. When we saved $120,000 the first year, even I was astounded.

While I continued to run my private practice, I did accept other small community’s offers to look into their county jails’ programs. I found that their problems in cost control and quality of health care mirrored those I found in the first jail, and they were easily solvable if the county judge and the local sheriff wanted solutions. I also found that politics makes strange bedfellows, as the saying goes, and often the obvious changes were met with obstruction in one form or another. Nonetheless, I found that I could serve these communities in addition to my individual patients. When it was time for retirement, I continued to have a real desire to make the towns around which I lived and my own community more livable. So I made my retirement life one that included jail medicine.

In most things, I found that the same business philosophy and personal medical approach I learned in my pediatrics training and as a private practitioner applied to the jail system. Let me mention some specifics. Using generic medicines was less expensive than using brand names. The diagnoses which patients claimed when they entered jail might or might not be correct, so reevaluating the diagnosis and treatment was appropriate as soon as possible. Hospital and ED visits should be limited to patients’ medically requiring them rather than using the ED as a screening tool.

But I did come to understand that medical care in the county jail is different from medical care outside an incarcerated facility in that sometimes the prisoners had their own reasons for seeking medical care. This was complicated by the fact that often there were critically ill patients presenting to county jails. So carefully established criteria and protocols were an absolute necessity to save lives.

Let me expand on the topic of seeking medical care by the inmate-patients. A relatively small number of these individuals required immediate emergency treatment, without which they could not do well: The diabetic who was not taking his insulin, the out-of-control paranoid schizophrenic who decided he was cured and therefore was unattended, the alcoholic or drug addict who would develop delirium tremens if medications were stopped abruptly. These people had to be identified as quickly as possible and correctly treated. Confounding the problem was the fact that many, and I repeat many, individuals try to use the medical route to manipulate their incarceration environment. I called this the B problem: beds, blankets, barter, buzz, better food, and be out of here. They might claim an illness existed, and often they might believe it did.

A related situation might exist when individuals would demand psychiatric and pain medications, often in large quantities, when they in fact had not taken them for some time in the outside world. Often these patients were addicts, and of course this could create an entire other relationship with the medical team. A third example would be the claim of hypoglycemia so that the prisoner would receive more frequent meals.

One might think that as a pediatrician I was ill prepared to treat adults, and in fact, there was much review of the general medical care needed when I began this program. However, the internists and family physicians in town were glad to assist me whenever I encountered a difficult patient. When hospitalizations were required, the inpatient always was covered by one of the internists on hospital staff. Quite frankly, the doctors seemed pleased to not be dealing with this group of individuals as much as they had in the past.

On a slightly different note, skills honed during my pediatric career were extremely valuable. Children, particularly young children, do not verbally communicate with their parents or their doctor particularly well, so pediatricians are well trained in the skill of observation. The patient who claims a guard hurt his shoulder so badly during an altercation that he cannot move it is found out when he easily whips his arms over his head when asked to remove his shirt. It is not uncommon for an individual to demand antidepressant medications from the medical staff, but when evaluated more thoroughly and for a longer period of time, the patient ends up laughing, even denying any suicidal ideation or any other sign of depression. One also deals with a lot of adolescent behavior from the inmates, such as the individuals who say that unless they don’t get their way (more food) they are not going to take their medications and thus get sicker. That’s Adolescent Medicine 101.

Some of the modalities I utilized in modifying the jail programs will be familiar to every practicing pediatrician. I educate; I teach; I train. Parents of my asthmatic patients had to know what medications to keep handy and when to use them. It is pretty easy to see how that relates to jail medicine. Many patients come into jail with inhalers and with a diagnosis of asthma. Some have the condition, and some do not. By training jail and medical staff how to observe breathing patterns and by performing pulse oximetry, we eliminated a large number of unnecessary ED visits, and we often made the diagnosis of hyperventilation syndrome rather than misdiagnosed asthma.

Jail medicine is a large part of the cost of housing inmates. I did consultation work for a large urban jail, and we saved over $7 million in 1 year. In a medium-sized jail, the cost-savings after a 4-month consultation was over $300,000. This is a lot of money to me, and I suspect is to you, too. Just as in our general communities, we have enough resources to provide medical care and to provide a high level of care for all. However, we cannot waste money by providing inappropriate care or overtesting or overtreating. The medical care must be what treats the disease the patient actually has ... nothing more and nothing less!

If it sounds as if I am cynical about inmate patients, that is not true. However, I am realistic that no one wishes to be in jail. I realize that the medical route is just one that prisoners can and do use to modify their situation. I understand that the medical staff within a jail needs constant education and supervision at first, and with time they become more astute – just like a physician in this arena – at distinguishing the very serious from the mildly serious from malingering. In spite of this, we doctors also can be fooled. However, through constant vigilance and constant education we can get better.

Jail medicine is not for everyone in retirement. Heck, it is not for everyone ever. I found it interesting because it required me to match my diagnostic skills against the diseases and the psychodynamics of individuals who often – not always – made that diagnosis more difficult. Diagnosing illness and curing it – isn’t this why we all went into medicine?
 

Dr. Yoffe is a retired pediatrician specializing in allergy and immunology who resides in Brenham, Tex. Email him at [email protected].

This article was updated 2/13/2020.

Whether “retirement” is withdrawing from one’s occupation or from an active working life, it is of utmost importance to not let one’s mind degenerate. Some individuals move on to gathering new intellectual skills by attending new educational courses or meetings, some travel, some become semiprofessional golfers or fishermen, and some find other forms of personal extension. I now serve to develop cost-saving medical programs for county jails in the state of Texas while attempting to improve the overall quality of inmate care.

Initially I was a pediatrician in Houston with special training in allergy and immunology, but because of a medical problem I was forced to abandon my first love – primary pediatrics. My move to a small town at the age of 40 required me to reevaluate my professional life, and I opted to provide care only in my allergy and immunology specialty.

However, living in a small town is different from life in a metropolis, and it was not uncommon for doctors to be asked to assist the community. A number of years ago, our county judge asked if I would help evaluate why our county jail was spending so much money. After several attempts to refuse, I eventually did evaluate the program there, and was flabbergasted by how much money was being wasted. I made some rather simple suggestions as how to correct the problem, but when no primary care doctor stepped forward to implement the changes and run the jail medical program, I became its medical director. When we saved $120,000 the first year, even I was astounded.

While I continued to run my private practice, I did accept other small community’s offers to look into their county jails’ programs. I found that their problems in cost control and quality of health care mirrored those I found in the first jail, and they were easily solvable if the county judge and the local sheriff wanted solutions. I also found that politics makes strange bedfellows, as the saying goes, and often the obvious changes were met with obstruction in one form or another. Nonetheless, I found that I could serve these communities in addition to my individual patients. When it was time for retirement, I continued to have a real desire to make the towns around which I lived and my own community more livable. So I made my retirement life one that included jail medicine.

In most things, I found that the same business philosophy and personal medical approach I learned in my pediatrics training and as a private practitioner applied to the jail system. Let me mention some specifics. Using generic medicines was less expensive than using brand names. The diagnoses which patients claimed when they entered jail might or might not be correct, so reevaluating the diagnosis and treatment was appropriate as soon as possible. Hospital and ED visits should be limited to patients’ medically requiring them rather than using the ED as a screening tool.

But I did come to understand that medical care in the county jail is different from medical care outside an incarcerated facility in that sometimes the prisoners had their own reasons for seeking medical care. This was complicated by the fact that often there were critically ill patients presenting to county jails. So carefully established criteria and protocols were an absolute necessity to save lives.

Let me expand on the topic of seeking medical care by the inmate-patients. A relatively small number of these individuals required immediate emergency treatment, without which they could not do well: The diabetic who was not taking his insulin, the out-of-control paranoid schizophrenic who decided he was cured and therefore was unattended, the alcoholic or drug addict who would develop delirium tremens if medications were stopped abruptly. These people had to be identified as quickly as possible and correctly treated. Confounding the problem was the fact that many, and I repeat many, individuals try to use the medical route to manipulate their incarceration environment. I called this the B problem: beds, blankets, barter, buzz, better food, and be out of here. They might claim an illness existed, and often they might believe it did.

A related situation might exist when individuals would demand psychiatric and pain medications, often in large quantities, when they in fact had not taken them for some time in the outside world. Often these patients were addicts, and of course this could create an entire other relationship with the medical team. A third example would be the claim of hypoglycemia so that the prisoner would receive more frequent meals.

One might think that as a pediatrician I was ill prepared to treat adults, and in fact, there was much review of the general medical care needed when I began this program. However, the internists and family physicians in town were glad to assist me whenever I encountered a difficult patient. When hospitalizations were required, the inpatient always was covered by one of the internists on hospital staff. Quite frankly, the doctors seemed pleased to not be dealing with this group of individuals as much as they had in the past.

On a slightly different note, skills honed during my pediatric career were extremely valuable. Children, particularly young children, do not verbally communicate with their parents or their doctor particularly well, so pediatricians are well trained in the skill of observation. The patient who claims a guard hurt his shoulder so badly during an altercation that he cannot move it is found out when he easily whips his arms over his head when asked to remove his shirt. It is not uncommon for an individual to demand antidepressant medications from the medical staff, but when evaluated more thoroughly and for a longer period of time, the patient ends up laughing, even denying any suicidal ideation or any other sign of depression. One also deals with a lot of adolescent behavior from the inmates, such as the individuals who say that unless they don’t get their way (more food) they are not going to take their medications and thus get sicker. That’s Adolescent Medicine 101.

Some of the modalities I utilized in modifying the jail programs will be familiar to every practicing pediatrician. I educate; I teach; I train. Parents of my asthmatic patients had to know what medications to keep handy and when to use them. It is pretty easy to see how that relates to jail medicine. Many patients come into jail with inhalers and with a diagnosis of asthma. Some have the condition, and some do not. By training jail and medical staff how to observe breathing patterns and by performing pulse oximetry, we eliminated a large number of unnecessary ED visits, and we often made the diagnosis of hyperventilation syndrome rather than misdiagnosed asthma.

Jail medicine is a large part of the cost of housing inmates. I did consultation work for a large urban jail, and we saved over $7 million in 1 year. In a medium-sized jail, the cost-savings after a 4-month consultation was over $300,000. This is a lot of money to me, and I suspect is to you, too. Just as in our general communities, we have enough resources to provide medical care and to provide a high level of care for all. However, we cannot waste money by providing inappropriate care or overtesting or overtreating. The medical care must be what treats the disease the patient actually has ... nothing more and nothing less!

If it sounds as if I am cynical about inmate patients, that is not true. However, I am realistic that no one wishes to be in jail. I realize that the medical route is just one that prisoners can and do use to modify their situation. I understand that the medical staff within a jail needs constant education and supervision at first, and with time they become more astute – just like a physician in this arena – at distinguishing the very serious from the mildly serious from malingering. In spite of this, we doctors also can be fooled. However, through constant vigilance and constant education we can get better.

Jail medicine is not for everyone in retirement. Heck, it is not for everyone ever. I found it interesting because it required me to match my diagnostic skills against the diseases and the psychodynamics of individuals who often – not always – made that diagnosis more difficult. Diagnosing illness and curing it – isn’t this why we all went into medicine?
 

Dr. Yoffe is a retired pediatrician specializing in allergy and immunology who resides in Brenham, Tex. Email him at [email protected].

This article was updated 2/13/2020.

The patient’s biopsy showed sparse and grouped and slightly enlarged atypical stained mononuclear cells in mostly perifollicular areas with focal epidermotropism. CD30 staining was positive. She responded to potent topical steroids.

Lymphomatoid papulosis (LyP) is an uncommon skin disorder. While all ages may be affected, the peak incidence occurs in the fourth or fifth decade. The etiology of LyP is unknown. It is unclear whether the proliferation of T-cells is a benign and chronic disorder, or an indolent T-cell malignancy.

In addition, 10% of LyP cases are associated with anaplastic large-cell lymphoma, cutaneous T-cell lymphoma (mycosis fungoides), or Hodgkin lymphoma. Borderline cases are those that overlap LyP and lymphoma.

Patients typically present with crops of asymptomatic erythematous to brown papules that may become pustular, vesicular, or necrotic. Lesions tend to resolve within 2-8 weeks with or without scarring. The trunk and extremities are commonly affected. The condition tends to be chronic over months to years. The waxing and waning course is characteristic of LyP. Constitutional symptoms are generally absent in cases not associated with systemic disease.

Dr. Bilu Martin is a board-certified dermatologist in private practice at Premier Dermatology, MD, in Aventura, Fla. More diagnostic cases are available at mdedge.com/dermatology. To submit a case for possible publication, send an email to [email protected].

The patient’s biopsy showed sparse and grouped and slightly enlarged atypical stained mononuclear cells in mostly perifollicular areas with focal epidermotropism. CD30 staining was positive. She responded to potent topical steroids.

Lymphomatoid papulosis (LyP) is an uncommon skin disorder. While all ages may be affected, the peak incidence occurs in the fourth or fifth decade. The etiology of LyP is unknown. It is unclear whether the proliferation of T-cells is a benign and chronic disorder, or an indolent T-cell malignancy.

In addition, 10% of LyP cases are associated with anaplastic large-cell lymphoma, cutaneous T-cell lymphoma (mycosis fungoides), or Hodgkin lymphoma. Borderline cases are those that overlap LyP and lymphoma.

Patients typically present with crops of asymptomatic erythematous to brown papules that may become pustular, vesicular, or necrotic. Lesions tend to resolve within 2-8 weeks with or without scarring. The trunk and extremities are commonly affected. The condition tends to be chronic over months to years. The waxing and waning course is characteristic of LyP. Constitutional symptoms are generally absent in cases not associated with systemic disease.

Dr. Bilu Martin is a board-certified dermatologist in private practice at Premier Dermatology, MD, in Aventura, Fla. More diagnostic cases are available at mdedge.com/dermatology. To submit a case for possible publication, send an email to [email protected].

The patient’s biopsy showed sparse and grouped and slightly enlarged atypical stained mononuclear cells in mostly perifollicular areas with focal epidermotropism. CD30 staining was positive. She responded to potent topical steroids.

Lymphomatoid papulosis (LyP) is an uncommon skin disorder. While all ages may be affected, the peak incidence occurs in the fourth or fifth decade. The etiology of LyP is unknown. It is unclear whether the proliferation of T-cells is a benign and chronic disorder, or an indolent T-cell malignancy.

In addition, 10% of LyP cases are associated with anaplastic large-cell lymphoma, cutaneous T-cell lymphoma (mycosis fungoides), or Hodgkin lymphoma. Borderline cases are those that overlap LyP and lymphoma.

Patients typically present with crops of asymptomatic erythematous to brown papules that may become pustular, vesicular, or necrotic. Lesions tend to resolve within 2-8 weeks with or without scarring. The trunk and extremities are commonly affected. The condition tends to be chronic over months to years. The waxing and waning course is characteristic of LyP. Constitutional symptoms are generally absent in cases not associated with systemic disease.

Dr. Bilu Martin is a board-certified dermatologist in private practice at Premier Dermatology, MD, in Aventura, Fla. More diagnostic cases are available at mdedge.com/dermatology. To submit a case for possible publication, send an email to [email protected].

With myriad complex, high-tech problems facing private practice in this modern era, I am periodically reminded by long-time readers to revisit some of the low-tech issues that will always require our attention.

Few are lower tech (in most cases) and more easily overlooked than theft from within. Embezzlement remains far more common in medical offices than generally assumed – and it often occurs in full view of physicians who think everything is fine. Most embezzlers are not skillful or discreet; their transgressions may go undetected for years, simply because no one suspects it is happening.

Detecting fraud is an inexact science. There is no textbook approach that one can follow, but a few simple measures will prevent or expose the most common forms:

• Make it more difficult. Theft and embezzlement are usually products of opportunity, so minimize those opportunities. No one person should be in charge of the entire bookkeeping process: The person who enters charges should be different from the one who enters payments. The one who writes checks or makes electronic fund transfers should not balance the books, and so on. Internal audits should be done on a regular basis, and all employees should know that. Your accountant can help.
• Reconcile cash receipts daily. Embezzlement does not require sophisticated technology; the most common form is simply taking cash out of the till. In a typical scenario, a patient pays a copay of $15 in cash; the receptionist records the payment as $5, and pockets the rest. Make sure a receipt is generated for every cash transaction, and that someone other than the person accepting cash reconciles the charges, receipts, and cash totals daily.
• Inventory your stock. Cash isn’t the only susceptible commodity. If you sell cosmetics or other products, inventory your stock frequently. And office personnel are not the only potential thieves: Last year, a locum tenens physician down the street conspired with a receptionist to take cash transactions for cosmetic neurotoxins and fillers “off the books” and split the spoils. That office was being ripped off twice; first for the neurotoxin and filler materials themselves, and then for the cash proceeds.
• Separate all accounting duties. Another popular ploy is false invoicing for imaginary supplies. A friend’s experience provides a good example (retold with his permission): His bookkeeper wrote sizable checks to herself, disguising them in the ledger as payments to vendors commonly used by his practice. Since the same employee also balanced the checkbook, she got away with it for years. “It wasn’t at all clever,” he told me, “and I’m embarrassed to admit that it happened to me.” Once again, separation of duties is the key to prevention. One employee should enter invoices into the data system, another should issue the check or make the electronic transfer, and a third should match invoices to goods and services received.
• Verify expense reports. False expense reporting is a subset of the fake invoice scam. When an employee asks for reimbursement of expenses, make sure those expenses are real.
• Consider computer safeguards. Computers facilitate a lot of financial chores, but they also consolidate financial data in one place, where it is potentially accessible to anybody, anywhere. Your computer vendor should be aware of this, and there should be safeguards built into your system. Ask about them. If they aren’t there, ask why.
• Hire honest employees. All applicants look great on paper, so check their references; and with their permission, you can run background checks for a few dollars on any of several public information web sites. My columns on hiring are available on the MDedge Dermatology website.
• Look for “red flags.” Examples include employees who refuse to take vacations, because someone else will have do their work or who insist on posting expenses that are a coworker’s responsibility, “just to be nice.” Anyone obviously living beyond his or her means merits suspicion as well.
• Consider bonding your employees. Dishonesty bonds are relatively inexpensive, and provide assurance of some measure of recovery if your safeguards fail. Also, just knowing that your staff is bonded will scare off most dishonest applicants. One effective screen is a question on your employment application: “Would you object to being bonded?”

Dr. Eastern practices dermatology and dermatologic surgery in Belleville, N.J. He is the author of numerous articles and textbook chapters, and is a longtime monthly columnist for Dermatology News. Write to him at [email protected].

With myriad complex, high-tech problems facing private practice in this modern era, I am periodically reminded by long-time readers to revisit some of the low-tech issues that will always require our attention.

Few are lower tech (in most cases) and more easily overlooked than theft from within. Embezzlement remains far more common in medical offices than generally assumed – and it often occurs in full view of physicians who think everything is fine. Most embezzlers are not skillful or discreet; their transgressions may go undetected for years, simply because no one suspects it is happening.

Detecting fraud is an inexact science. There is no textbook approach that one can follow, but a few simple measures will prevent or expose the most common forms:

• Make it more difficult. Theft and embezzlement are usually products of opportunity, so minimize those opportunities. No one person should be in charge of the entire bookkeeping process: The person who enters charges should be different from the one who enters payments. The one who writes checks or makes electronic fund transfers should not balance the books, and so on. Internal audits should be done on a regular basis, and all employees should know that. Your accountant can help.
• Reconcile cash receipts daily. Embezzlement does not require sophisticated technology; the most common form is simply taking cash out of the till. In a typical scenario, a patient pays a copay of $15 in cash; the receptionist records the payment as $5, and pockets the rest. Make sure a receipt is generated for every cash transaction, and that someone other than the person accepting cash reconciles the charges, receipts, and cash totals daily.
• Inventory your stock. Cash isn’t the only susceptible commodity. If you sell cosmetics or other products, inventory your stock frequently. And office personnel are not the only potential thieves: Last year, a locum tenens physician down the street conspired with a receptionist to take cash transactions for cosmetic neurotoxins and fillers “off the books” and split the spoils. That office was being ripped off twice; first for the neurotoxin and filler materials themselves, and then for the cash proceeds.
• Separate all accounting duties. Another popular ploy is false invoicing for imaginary supplies. A friend’s experience provides a good example (retold with his permission): His bookkeeper wrote sizable checks to herself, disguising them in the ledger as payments to vendors commonly used by his practice. Since the same employee also balanced the checkbook, she got away with it for years. “It wasn’t at all clever,” he told me, “and I’m embarrassed to admit that it happened to me.” Once again, separation of duties is the key to prevention. One employee should enter invoices into the data system, another should issue the check or make the electronic transfer, and a third should match invoices to goods and services received.
• Verify expense reports. False expense reporting is a subset of the fake invoice scam. When an employee asks for reimbursement of expenses, make sure those expenses are real.
• Consider computer safeguards. Computers facilitate a lot of financial chores, but they also consolidate financial data in one place, where it is potentially accessible to anybody, anywhere. Your computer vendor should be aware of this, and there should be safeguards built into your system. Ask about them. If they aren’t there, ask why.
• Hire honest employees. All applicants look great on paper, so check their references; and with their permission, you can run background checks for a few dollars on any of several public information web sites. My columns on hiring are available on the MDedge Dermatology website.
• Look for “red flags.” Examples include employees who refuse to take vacations, because someone else will have do their work or who insist on posting expenses that are a coworker’s responsibility, “just to be nice.” Anyone obviously living beyond his or her means merits suspicion as well.
• Consider bonding your employees. Dishonesty bonds are relatively inexpensive, and provide assurance of some measure of recovery if your safeguards fail. Also, just knowing that your staff is bonded will scare off most dishonest applicants. One effective screen is a question on your employment application: “Would you object to being bonded?”

Dr. Eastern practices dermatology and dermatologic surgery in Belleville, N.J. He is the author of numerous articles and textbook chapters, and is a longtime monthly columnist for Dermatology News. Write to him at [email protected].

With myriad complex, high-tech problems facing private practice in this modern era, I am periodically reminded by long-time readers to revisit some of the low-tech issues that will always require our attention.

Few are lower tech (in most cases) and more easily overlooked than theft from within. Embezzlement remains far more common in medical offices than generally assumed – and it often occurs in full view of physicians who think everything is fine. Most embezzlers are not skillful or discreet; their transgressions may go undetected for years, simply because no one suspects it is happening.

Detecting fraud is an inexact science. There is no textbook approach that one can follow, but a few simple measures will prevent or expose the most common forms:

• Make it more difficult. Theft and embezzlement are usually products of opportunity, so minimize those opportunities. No one person should be in charge of the entire bookkeeping process: The person who enters charges should be different from the one who enters payments. The one who writes checks or makes electronic fund transfers should not balance the books, and so on. Internal audits should be done on a regular basis, and all employees should know that. Your accountant can help.
• Reconcile cash receipts daily. Embezzlement does not require sophisticated technology; the most common form is simply taking cash out of the till. In a typical scenario, a patient pays a copay of $15 in cash; the receptionist records the payment as $5, and pockets the rest. Make sure a receipt is generated for every cash transaction, and that someone other than the person accepting cash reconciles the charges, receipts, and cash totals daily.
• Inventory your stock. Cash isn’t the only susceptible commodity. If you sell cosmetics or other products, inventory your stock frequently. And office personnel are not the only potential thieves: Last year, a locum tenens physician down the street conspired with a receptionist to take cash transactions for cosmetic neurotoxins and fillers “off the books” and split the spoils. That office was being ripped off twice; first for the neurotoxin and filler materials themselves, and then for the cash proceeds.
• Separate all accounting duties. Another popular ploy is false invoicing for imaginary supplies. A friend’s experience provides a good example (retold with his permission): His bookkeeper wrote sizable checks to herself, disguising them in the ledger as payments to vendors commonly used by his practice. Since the same employee also balanced the checkbook, she got away with it for years. “It wasn’t at all clever,” he told me, “and I’m embarrassed to admit that it happened to me.” Once again, separation of duties is the key to prevention. One employee should enter invoices into the data system, another should issue the check or make the electronic transfer, and a third should match invoices to goods and services received.
• Verify expense reports. False expense reporting is a subset of the fake invoice scam. When an employee asks for reimbursement of expenses, make sure those expenses are real.
• Consider computer safeguards. Computers facilitate a lot of financial chores, but they also consolidate financial data in one place, where it is potentially accessible to anybody, anywhere. Your computer vendor should be aware of this, and there should be safeguards built into your system. Ask about them. If they aren’t there, ask why.
• Hire honest employees. All applicants look great on paper, so check their references; and with their permission, you can run background checks for a few dollars on any of several public information web sites. My columns on hiring are available on the MDedge Dermatology website.
• Look for “red flags.” Examples include employees who refuse to take vacations, because someone else will have do their work or who insist on posting expenses that are a coworker’s responsibility, “just to be nice.” Anyone obviously living beyond his or her means merits suspicion as well.
• Consider bonding your employees. Dishonesty bonds are relatively inexpensive, and provide assurance of some measure of recovery if your safeguards fail. Also, just knowing that your staff is bonded will scare off most dishonest applicants. One effective screen is a question on your employment application: “Would you object to being bonded?”

Dr. Eastern practices dermatology and dermatologic surgery in Belleville, N.J. He is the author of numerous articles and textbook chapters, and is a longtime monthly columnist for Dermatology News. Write to him at [email protected].

My wife thinks I am a little morbid, because I still read the local Sunday newspaper not to catch up on the news, and certainly not for the ads, but mostly to read the obituaries.

All of us have elderly patients, and I am growing old with many of my older patients. Now after treating many thousands of patients whom I have grown to know well, it is not unusual to see an obituary of someone my office staff and I know in the newspaper on a weekly basis.

We send sympathy cards, sometimes I write a personal note to the spouse or family, and several times a year, some of my staff and I will go to the funeral or memorial ceremony.

I usually ask if they died well, comfortably with family, or better yet, suddenly, dropping dead like a stone. This is the unspoken, though usually unrealized, goal of many of us from the world of medicine.

All physicians who have been surrounded by death, some horrible deaths, want to die well. I think it is difficult to do, although my mother came close.

One day when dropping off her best little friend (my 10-year-old daughter), she said “look here, I’ve got a knot in my belly button.” I felt the blood rushing to my head and before I could stop her, she showed me her Sister Mary Joseph nodule, a sign of metastatic internal malignancy. I sat stunned as she looked at me; her eyes showed she already knew my answer.

She lasted at home for 6 weeks, went into hospice, and died 36 hours later.

The last morning before she died, I took my daughter to see her before school. She woke up and called her “sugar” and had her climb into bed with her and snuggle. I got choked up and tearful and started telling her how much I loved her and how sorry I was and how much we would miss her. She looked over at me, and with anger in her voice, told me to be quiet, and explained that death comes to everyone eventually and just to get over it. In retrospect, I understand now that I was not helping her die well.

I am telling this story to bring up a point about professionalism. A crucial part of professionalism is a responsiveness to patients’ needs that supersedes self interest. As dermatologists who treat skin cancer, this becomes important as the life cycle ends. Aged patients sometimes start blossoming with skin cancers. You must carefully gauge how much “treatment” a patient really needs.

You have a conflict. You get paid to diagnose and treat skin cancers. You must shift roles and become the patient’s protector, and treat the patient as if he or she was your parent. Less, sometimes much less, is often more. Perhaps you only biopsy and treat rapidly growing cancers that endanger crucial structures. You ignore the noninvasive tumors on the trunk and extremities. It is a fine and difficult line to walk.

Patients know they are dying, and at certain stages of grieving will want everything possible done, especially if it is visible. Skin wounds, even from curetting, salves, and cryotherapy, can be painful and sometimes disabling. You must resist unnecessary treatments, temporize if possible, discuss quality time with the patient and the family, and reach a consensus on how aggressive not to be. You must help them die well.

You are not only a healer, but as a master physician you – yes, even you the dermatologist – must also be a helpful guide at the end of life. I am sad to see patients, my old friends, in the newspaper, but feel secretly satisfied if I have spared them unnecessary suffering.
 

Dr. Coldiron is in private practice but maintains a clinical assistant professorship at the University of Cincinnati. He cares for patients, teaches medical students and residents, and has several active clinical research projects. Dr. Coldiron is the author of more than 80 scientific letters, papers, and several book chapters, and he speaks frequently on a variety of topics. He is a past president of the American Academy of Dermatology. Write to him at [email protected].

My wife thinks I am a little morbid, because I still read the local Sunday newspaper not to catch up on the news, and certainly not for the ads, but mostly to read the obituaries.

All of us have elderly patients, and I am growing old with many of my older patients. Now after treating many thousands of patients whom I have grown to know well, it is not unusual to see an obituary of someone my office staff and I know in the newspaper on a weekly basis.

We send sympathy cards, sometimes I write a personal note to the spouse or family, and several times a year, some of my staff and I will go to the funeral or memorial ceremony.

I usually ask if they died well, comfortably with family, or better yet, suddenly, dropping dead like a stone. This is the unspoken, though usually unrealized, goal of many of us from the world of medicine.

All physicians who have been surrounded by death, some horrible deaths, want to die well. I think it is difficult to do, although my mother came close.

One day when dropping off her best little friend (my 10-year-old daughter), she said “look here, I’ve got a knot in my belly button.” I felt the blood rushing to my head and before I could stop her, she showed me her Sister Mary Joseph nodule, a sign of metastatic internal malignancy. I sat stunned as she looked at me; her eyes showed she already knew my answer.

She lasted at home for 6 weeks, went into hospice, and died 36 hours later.

The last morning before she died, I took my daughter to see her before school. She woke up and called her “sugar” and had her climb into bed with her and snuggle. I got choked up and tearful and started telling her how much I loved her and how sorry I was and how much we would miss her. She looked over at me, and with anger in her voice, told me to be quiet, and explained that death comes to everyone eventually and just to get over it. In retrospect, I understand now that I was not helping her die well.

I am telling this story to bring up a point about professionalism. A crucial part of professionalism is a responsiveness to patients’ needs that supersedes self interest. As dermatologists who treat skin cancer, this becomes important as the life cycle ends. Aged patients sometimes start blossoming with skin cancers. You must carefully gauge how much “treatment” a patient really needs.

You have a conflict. You get paid to diagnose and treat skin cancers. You must shift roles and become the patient’s protector, and treat the patient as if he or she was your parent. Less, sometimes much less, is often more. Perhaps you only biopsy and treat rapidly growing cancers that endanger crucial structures. You ignore the noninvasive tumors on the trunk and extremities. It is a fine and difficult line to walk.

Patients know they are dying, and at certain stages of grieving will want everything possible done, especially if it is visible. Skin wounds, even from curetting, salves, and cryotherapy, can be painful and sometimes disabling. You must resist unnecessary treatments, temporize if possible, discuss quality time with the patient and the family, and reach a consensus on how aggressive not to be. You must help them die well.

You are not only a healer, but as a master physician you – yes, even you the dermatologist – must also be a helpful guide at the end of life. I am sad to see patients, my old friends, in the newspaper, but feel secretly satisfied if I have spared them unnecessary suffering.
 

Dr. Coldiron is in private practice but maintains a clinical assistant professorship at the University of Cincinnati. He cares for patients, teaches medical students and residents, and has several active clinical research projects. Dr. Coldiron is the author of more than 80 scientific letters, papers, and several book chapters, and he speaks frequently on a variety of topics. He is a past president of the American Academy of Dermatology. Write to him at [email protected].

My wife thinks I am a little morbid, because I still read the local Sunday newspaper not to catch up on the news, and certainly not for the ads, but mostly to read the obituaries.

All of us have elderly patients, and I am growing old with many of my older patients. Now after treating many thousands of patients whom I have grown to know well, it is not unusual to see an obituary of someone my office staff and I know in the newspaper on a weekly basis.

We send sympathy cards, sometimes I write a personal note to the spouse or family, and several times a year, some of my staff and I will go to the funeral or memorial ceremony.

I usually ask if they died well, comfortably with family, or better yet, suddenly, dropping dead like a stone. This is the unspoken, though usually unrealized, goal of many of us from the world of medicine.

All physicians who have been surrounded by death, some horrible deaths, want to die well. I think it is difficult to do, although my mother came close.

One day when dropping off her best little friend (my 10-year-old daughter), she said “look here, I’ve got a knot in my belly button.” I felt the blood rushing to my head and before I could stop her, she showed me her Sister Mary Joseph nodule, a sign of metastatic internal malignancy. I sat stunned as she looked at me; her eyes showed she already knew my answer.

She lasted at home for 6 weeks, went into hospice, and died 36 hours later.

The last morning before she died, I took my daughter to see her before school. She woke up and called her “sugar” and had her climb into bed with her and snuggle. I got choked up and tearful and started telling her how much I loved her and how sorry I was and how much we would miss her. She looked over at me, and with anger in her voice, told me to be quiet, and explained that death comes to everyone eventually and just to get over it. In retrospect, I understand now that I was not helping her die well.

I am telling this story to bring up a point about professionalism. A crucial part of professionalism is a responsiveness to patients’ needs that supersedes self interest. As dermatologists who treat skin cancer, this becomes important as the life cycle ends. Aged patients sometimes start blossoming with skin cancers. You must carefully gauge how much “treatment” a patient really needs.

You have a conflict. You get paid to diagnose and treat skin cancers. You must shift roles and become the patient’s protector, and treat the patient as if he or she was your parent. Less, sometimes much less, is often more. Perhaps you only biopsy and treat rapidly growing cancers that endanger crucial structures. You ignore the noninvasive tumors on the trunk and extremities. It is a fine and difficult line to walk.

Patients know they are dying, and at certain stages of grieving will want everything possible done, especially if it is visible. Skin wounds, even from curetting, salves, and cryotherapy, can be painful and sometimes disabling. You must resist unnecessary treatments, temporize if possible, discuss quality time with the patient and the family, and reach a consensus on how aggressive not to be. You must help them die well.

You are not only a healer, but as a master physician you – yes, even you the dermatologist – must also be a helpful guide at the end of life. I am sad to see patients, my old friends, in the newspaper, but feel secretly satisfied if I have spared them unnecessary suffering.
 

Dr. Coldiron is in private practice but maintains a clinical assistant professorship at the University of Cincinnati. He cares for patients, teaches medical students and residents, and has several active clinical research projects. Dr. Coldiron is the author of more than 80 scientific letters, papers, and several book chapters, and he speaks frequently on a variety of topics. He is a past president of the American Academy of Dermatology. Write to him at [email protected].

Most of us did our postgraduate training in tertiary medical centers, ivory towers of medicine often attached to or closely affiliated with medical schools. These are the places where the buck stops. Occasionally, a very complex patient might be sent to another tertiary center that claims to have a supersubspecialist, a one-of-a-kind physician with nationally recognized expertise. But for most patients, the tertiary medical center is the end of the line, and his or her physicians must manage with the resources at hand. They may confer with one another but there is no place for them to pass the buck.

Yuri_Arcurs/DigitalVision/Getty Images

But most of us who chose primary care left the comforting cocoon of the teaching hospital complex when we finished our training. Those first few months and years in the hinterland can be angst producing. Until we have established our own personal networks of consultants and mentors, patients with more than run-of-the-mill complaints may prompt us to reach for the phone or fire off an email call for help to our recently departed mother ship.

It can take awhile to establish the self-confidence – or at least the appearance of self-confidence – that physicians are expected to exude. But even after years of experience, none of us wants to watch a patient die or suffer preventable complications under our care when we know there is another facility that can provide a higher lever of care just an ambulance ride or short helicopter trip away.

Our primary concern is of course assuring that our patient is receiving the best care. How quickly we reach for the phone to refer out the most fragile patients depends on several factors. Do we practice in a community that has a historic reputation of having a low threshold for malpractice suits? How well do we know the patient and her family? Have we had time to establish bidirectional trust?

Is the patient’s diagnosis one that we feel comfortable with or is the diagnosis one that we believe could quickly deteriorate without warning? For example, a recently published study revealed that 20% of pediatric trauma patients were overtriaged and that the mechanism of injury – firearms or motor vehicle accidents – appeared to have an outsized influence in the triage decision (Trauma Surg Acute Care Open. 2019 Dec 29. doi: 10.1136/tsaco-2019-000300).

Courtesy Dr. William G. Wilkoff

Because I have no experience with firearm injuries and minimal experience with motor vehicle injuries I can understand why the emergency medical technicians might be quick to ship these patients to the trauma center. However, I hope that, were I offered better training and more opportunities to gain experience with these types of injuries, I would have a lower overtriage percentage.

Which begs the question of what is an acceptable rate of overtriage or overreferral? It’s the same old question of how many normal appendixes should one remove to avoid a fatal outcome. Each of us arrives at a given clinical crossroads with our own level of experience and comfort level. Our level of confidence in our local peer and specialty support network helps us decide when it is time to transfer a patient to a higher-level facility.

But in the final analysis it boils down to a personal decision and our own basic level of anxiety. Let’s face it, some of us worry more than others. Physicians come in all shades of anxiety. A hot potato in your hands may feel only room temperature to me.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].

Most of us did our postgraduate training in tertiary medical centers, ivory towers of medicine often attached to or closely affiliated with medical schools. These are the places where the buck stops. Occasionally, a very complex patient might be sent to another tertiary center that claims to have a supersubspecialist, a one-of-a-kind physician with nationally recognized expertise. But for most patients, the tertiary medical center is the end of the line, and his or her physicians must manage with the resources at hand. They may confer with one another but there is no place for them to pass the buck.

Yuri_Arcurs/DigitalVision/Getty Images

But most of us who chose primary care left the comforting cocoon of the teaching hospital complex when we finished our training. Those first few months and years in the hinterland can be angst producing. Until we have established our own personal networks of consultants and mentors, patients with more than run-of-the-mill complaints may prompt us to reach for the phone or fire off an email call for help to our recently departed mother ship.

It can take awhile to establish the self-confidence – or at least the appearance of self-confidence – that physicians are expected to exude. But even after years of experience, none of us wants to watch a patient die or suffer preventable complications under our care when we know there is another facility that can provide a higher lever of care just an ambulance ride or short helicopter trip away.

Our primary concern is of course assuring that our patient is receiving the best care. How quickly we reach for the phone to refer out the most fragile patients depends on several factors. Do we practice in a community that has a historic reputation of having a low threshold for malpractice suits? How well do we know the patient and her family? Have we had time to establish bidirectional trust?

Is the patient’s diagnosis one that we feel comfortable with or is the diagnosis one that we believe could quickly deteriorate without warning? For example, a recently published study revealed that 20% of pediatric trauma patients were overtriaged and that the mechanism of injury – firearms or motor vehicle accidents – appeared to have an outsized influence in the triage decision (Trauma Surg Acute Care Open. 2019 Dec 29. doi: 10.1136/tsaco-2019-000300).

Courtesy Dr. William G. Wilkoff

Because I have no experience with firearm injuries and minimal experience with motor vehicle injuries I can understand why the emergency medical technicians might be quick to ship these patients to the trauma center. However, I hope that, were I offered better training and more opportunities to gain experience with these types of injuries, I would have a lower overtriage percentage.

Which begs the question of what is an acceptable rate of overtriage or overreferral? It’s the same old question of how many normal appendixes should one remove to avoid a fatal outcome. Each of us arrives at a given clinical crossroads with our own level of experience and comfort level. Our level of confidence in our local peer and specialty support network helps us decide when it is time to transfer a patient to a higher-level facility.

But in the final analysis it boils down to a personal decision and our own basic level of anxiety. Let’s face it, some of us worry more than others. Physicians come in all shades of anxiety. A hot potato in your hands may feel only room temperature to me.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].

Most of us did our postgraduate training in tertiary medical centers, ivory towers of medicine often attached to or closely affiliated with medical schools. These are the places where the buck stops. Occasionally, a very complex patient might be sent to another tertiary center that claims to have a supersubspecialist, a one-of-a-kind physician with nationally recognized expertise. But for most patients, the tertiary medical center is the end of the line, and his or her physicians must manage with the resources at hand. They may confer with one another but there is no place for them to pass the buck.

Yuri_Arcurs/DigitalVision/Getty Images

But most of us who chose primary care left the comforting cocoon of the teaching hospital complex when we finished our training. Those first few months and years in the hinterland can be angst producing. Until we have established our own personal networks of consultants and mentors, patients with more than run-of-the-mill complaints may prompt us to reach for the phone or fire off an email call for help to our recently departed mother ship.

It can take awhile to establish the self-confidence – or at least the appearance of self-confidence – that physicians are expected to exude. But even after years of experience, none of us wants to watch a patient die or suffer preventable complications under our care when we know there is another facility that can provide a higher lever of care just an ambulance ride or short helicopter trip away.

Our primary concern is of course assuring that our patient is receiving the best care. How quickly we reach for the phone to refer out the most fragile patients depends on several factors. Do we practice in a community that has a historic reputation of having a low threshold for malpractice suits? How well do we know the patient and her family? Have we had time to establish bidirectional trust?

Is the patient’s diagnosis one that we feel comfortable with or is the diagnosis one that we believe could quickly deteriorate without warning? For example, a recently published study revealed that 20% of pediatric trauma patients were overtriaged and that the mechanism of injury – firearms or motor vehicle accidents – appeared to have an outsized influence in the triage decision (Trauma Surg Acute Care Open. 2019 Dec 29. doi: 10.1136/tsaco-2019-000300).

Courtesy Dr. William G. Wilkoff

Because I have no experience with firearm injuries and minimal experience with motor vehicle injuries I can understand why the emergency medical technicians might be quick to ship these patients to the trauma center. However, I hope that, were I offered better training and more opportunities to gain experience with these types of injuries, I would have a lower overtriage percentage.

Which begs the question of what is an acceptable rate of overtriage or overreferral? It’s the same old question of how many normal appendixes should one remove to avoid a fatal outcome. Each of us arrives at a given clinical crossroads with our own level of experience and comfort level. Our level of confidence in our local peer and specialty support network helps us decide when it is time to transfer a patient to a higher-level facility.

But in the final analysis it boils down to a personal decision and our own basic level of anxiety. Let’s face it, some of us worry more than others. Physicians come in all shades of anxiety. A hot potato in your hands may feel only room temperature to me.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].

I agree wholeheartedly with Dr. William G. Wilkoff’s doubts that an increase in medical schools/students and/or foreign medical graduates is the answer to the physician shortage felt by many areas of the country (Letters From Maine, “Help Wanted,” Nov. 2019, page 19). All you have to do is look at the glut of physicians – and just about any other profession – in metropolitan areas versus rural America, and ask basic questions regarding why those doctors practice where they do. You will quickly discover that most are willing to trade the possibility of a higher salary in areas where their presence is more needed to achieve more school choices, jobs for a spouse, and likely a more favorable call schedule. Something more attractive than salary or the prospect of more “elbow room” is desired.

Here in Mississippi we may have found an answer to the problem. A few years ago our state legislature started the Mississippi Rural Health Scholarship Program that pays for recipients to attend a state-run medical school on scholarship in exchange for agreeing to practice at least 4 years in a rural area of the state (less than 20k population) following their primary care residency (family medicine, pediatrics, ob.gyn., med-peds, internal medicine, and, recently added, psychiatry). Although a recent increase in the number of pediatric residency slots at our state’s sole program will no doubt also have a positive effect to this end, such a scholarship program as the one implemented by Mississippi is the best way to compete with the various intangibles that lead people to choose bigger cities over rural areas of the state to practice their trade. Once there, many – like myself – will find that such a practice is not only a good business decision but often is a wonderful place to raise a family. Meanwhile, our own practice just added a fourth physician as a result of said Rural Health Scholarship Program, and we could not be more satisfied with the result.
 

I agree wholeheartedly with Dr. William G. Wilkoff’s doubts that an increase in medical schools/students and/or foreign medical graduates is the answer to the physician shortage felt by many areas of the country (Letters From Maine, “Help Wanted,” Nov. 2019, page 19). All you have to do is look at the glut of physicians – and just about any other profession – in metropolitan areas versus rural America, and ask basic questions regarding why those doctors practice where they do. You will quickly discover that most are willing to trade the possibility of a higher salary in areas where their presence is more needed to achieve more school choices, jobs for a spouse, and likely a more favorable call schedule. Something more attractive than salary or the prospect of more “elbow room” is desired.

Here in Mississippi we may have found an answer to the problem. A few years ago our state legislature started the Mississippi Rural Health Scholarship Program that pays for recipients to attend a state-run medical school on scholarship in exchange for agreeing to practice at least 4 years in a rural area of the state (less than 20k population) following their primary care residency (family medicine, pediatrics, ob.gyn., med-peds, internal medicine, and, recently added, psychiatry). Although a recent increase in the number of pediatric residency slots at our state’s sole program will no doubt also have a positive effect to this end, such a scholarship program as the one implemented by Mississippi is the best way to compete with the various intangibles that lead people to choose bigger cities over rural areas of the state to practice their trade. Once there, many – like myself – will find that such a practice is not only a good business decision but often is a wonderful place to raise a family. Meanwhile, our own practice just added a fourth physician as a result of said Rural Health Scholarship Program, and we could not be more satisfied with the result.
 

I agree wholeheartedly with Dr. William G. Wilkoff’s doubts that an increase in medical schools/students and/or foreign medical graduates is the answer to the physician shortage felt by many areas of the country (Letters From Maine, “Help Wanted,” Nov. 2019, page 19). All you have to do is look at the glut of physicians – and just about any other profession – in metropolitan areas versus rural America, and ask basic questions regarding why those doctors practice where they do. You will quickly discover that most are willing to trade the possibility of a higher salary in areas where their presence is more needed to achieve more school choices, jobs for a spouse, and likely a more favorable call schedule. Something more attractive than salary or the prospect of more “elbow room” is desired.

Here in Mississippi we may have found an answer to the problem. A few years ago our state legislature started the Mississippi Rural Health Scholarship Program that pays for recipients to attend a state-run medical school on scholarship in exchange for agreeing to practice at least 4 years in a rural area of the state (less than 20k population) following their primary care residency (family medicine, pediatrics, ob.gyn., med-peds, internal medicine, and, recently added, psychiatry). Although a recent increase in the number of pediatric residency slots at our state’s sole program will no doubt also have a positive effect to this end, such a scholarship program as the one implemented by Mississippi is the best way to compete with the various intangibles that lead people to choose bigger cities over rural areas of the state to practice their trade. Once there, many – like myself – will find that such a practice is not only a good business decision but often is a wonderful place to raise a family. Meanwhile, our own practice just added a fourth physician as a result of said Rural Health Scholarship Program, and we could not be more satisfied with the result.
 

The time has come for good men and women to unite and rise up against a common foe. For too long nurses and doctors have labored under the tyranny of a dictator who claimed to help them provide high-quality care for their patients while at the same time cutting their paperwork to nil. But like most autocrats he failed to engage his subjects in a meaningful dialogue as each new version of his promised improvements rolled off the drawing board. When the caregivers were slow to adopt these new nonsystems he offered them financial incentives and issued threats to their survival. Although they were warned that there might be uncomfortable adjustment periods, the caregivers were promised that the steep learning curves would level out and their professional lives would again be valued and productive.

Of course, the dictator is not a single person but a motley and disorganized conglomerate of user- and patient-unfriendly electronic health record nonsystems. Ask almost any nurse or physician for her feelings about computer-based medical record systems, and you will hear tales of long hours, disengagement, and frustration. Caregivers are unhappy at all levels, and patients have grown tired of their nurses and physicians spending most of their time looking at computer screens.

You certainly have heard this all before. But you are hearing it in hospital hallways and grocery store checkout lines as a low rumble of discontent emerging from separate individuals, not as a well-articulated and widely distributed voice of physicians as a group. To some extent this relative silence is because there is no such group, at least not in same mold as a labor union. The term “labor union” may make you uncomfortable. But given the current climate in medicine, unionizing may be the best and only way to effect change.

But organizing to effect change in the workplace isn’t part of the physician genome. In the 1960s, a group of house officers in Boston engaged in a heal-in to successfully improve their salaries and working conditions. But over the ensuing half century physicians have remained tragically silent in the face of a changing workplace landscape in which they have gone from being independent owner operators in control of their destinies to becoming employees feeling powerless to improve their working conditions. This perceived impotence has escalated in the face of the challenge posed by the introduction of dysfunctional EHRs.

Ironically, a solution is at almost every physician’s elbow. In a recent New York Times opinion piece Theresa Brown and Stephen Bergman acknowledge that physicians don’t seem prepared to mount a meaningful response to the challenge to the failed promise of EHRs (“Doctors, Nurses and the Paperwork Crisis That Could Unite Them,” Dec. 31, 2019). They point out that, over the last half century, physicians have remained isolated on the sidelines, finding just enough voice to grumble. Nurses have in a variety of situations organized to effect change in their working conditions – in some cases by forming labor unions.

The authors of this op-ed piece, a physician and a nurse, make a strong argument that the time has come for nurses and doctors shake off the shackles of their stereotypic roles and join in creating a loud, forceful, and effective voice to demand a working environment in which the computer functions as an asset and no longer as the terrible burden it has become. Neither group has the power to do it alone, but together they may be able to turn the tide. For physicians it will probably mean venturing several steps outside of their comfort zone. But working shoulder to shoulder with nurses may provide the courage to speak out.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].

The time has come for good men and women to unite and rise up against a common foe. For too long nurses and doctors have labored under the tyranny of a dictator who claimed to help them provide high-quality care for their patients while at the same time cutting their paperwork to nil. But like most autocrats he failed to engage his subjects in a meaningful dialogue as each new version of his promised improvements rolled off the drawing board. When the caregivers were slow to adopt these new nonsystems he offered them financial incentives and issued threats to their survival. Although they were warned that there might be uncomfortable adjustment periods, the caregivers were promised that the steep learning curves would level out and their professional lives would again be valued and productive.

Of course, the dictator is not a single person but a motley and disorganized conglomerate of user- and patient-unfriendly electronic health record nonsystems. Ask almost any nurse or physician for her feelings about computer-based medical record systems, and you will hear tales of long hours, disengagement, and frustration. Caregivers are unhappy at all levels, and patients have grown tired of their nurses and physicians spending most of their time looking at computer screens.

You certainly have heard this all before. But you are hearing it in hospital hallways and grocery store checkout lines as a low rumble of discontent emerging from separate individuals, not as a well-articulated and widely distributed voice of physicians as a group. To some extent this relative silence is because there is no such group, at least not in same mold as a labor union. The term “labor union” may make you uncomfortable. But given the current climate in medicine, unionizing may be the best and only way to effect change.

But organizing to effect change in the workplace isn’t part of the physician genome. In the 1960s, a group of house officers in Boston engaged in a heal-in to successfully improve their salaries and working conditions. But over the ensuing half century physicians have remained tragically silent in the face of a changing workplace landscape in which they have gone from being independent owner operators in control of their destinies to becoming employees feeling powerless to improve their working conditions. This perceived impotence has escalated in the face of the challenge posed by the introduction of dysfunctional EHRs.

Ironically, a solution is at almost every physician’s elbow. In a recent New York Times opinion piece Theresa Brown and Stephen Bergman acknowledge that physicians don’t seem prepared to mount a meaningful response to the challenge to the failed promise of EHRs (“Doctors, Nurses and the Paperwork Crisis That Could Unite Them,” Dec. 31, 2019). They point out that, over the last half century, physicians have remained isolated on the sidelines, finding just enough voice to grumble. Nurses have in a variety of situations organized to effect change in their working conditions – in some cases by forming labor unions.

The authors of this op-ed piece, a physician and a nurse, make a strong argument that the time has come for nurses and doctors shake off the shackles of their stereotypic roles and join in creating a loud, forceful, and effective voice to demand a working environment in which the computer functions as an asset and no longer as the terrible burden it has become. Neither group has the power to do it alone, but together they may be able to turn the tide. For physicians it will probably mean venturing several steps outside of their comfort zone. But working shoulder to shoulder with nurses may provide the courage to speak out.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].

The time has come for good men and women to unite and rise up against a common foe. For too long nurses and doctors have labored under the tyranny of a dictator who claimed to help them provide high-quality care for their patients while at the same time cutting their paperwork to nil. But like most autocrats he failed to engage his subjects in a meaningful dialogue as each new version of his promised improvements rolled off the drawing board. When the caregivers were slow to adopt these new nonsystems he offered them financial incentives and issued threats to their survival. Although they were warned that there might be uncomfortable adjustment periods, the caregivers were promised that the steep learning curves would level out and their professional lives would again be valued and productive.

Of course, the dictator is not a single person but a motley and disorganized conglomerate of user- and patient-unfriendly electronic health record nonsystems. Ask almost any nurse or physician for her feelings about computer-based medical record systems, and you will hear tales of long hours, disengagement, and frustration. Caregivers are unhappy at all levels, and patients have grown tired of their nurses and physicians spending most of their time looking at computer screens.

You certainly have heard this all before. But you are hearing it in hospital hallways and grocery store checkout lines as a low rumble of discontent emerging from separate individuals, not as a well-articulated and widely distributed voice of physicians as a group. To some extent this relative silence is because there is no such group, at least not in same mold as a labor union. The term “labor union” may make you uncomfortable. But given the current climate in medicine, unionizing may be the best and only way to effect change.

But organizing to effect change in the workplace isn’t part of the physician genome. In the 1960s, a group of house officers in Boston engaged in a heal-in to successfully improve their salaries and working conditions. But over the ensuing half century physicians have remained tragically silent in the face of a changing workplace landscape in which they have gone from being independent owner operators in control of their destinies to becoming employees feeling powerless to improve their working conditions. This perceived impotence has escalated in the face of the challenge posed by the introduction of dysfunctional EHRs.

Ironically, a solution is at almost every physician’s elbow. In a recent New York Times opinion piece Theresa Brown and Stephen Bergman acknowledge that physicians don’t seem prepared to mount a meaningful response to the challenge to the failed promise of EHRs (“Doctors, Nurses and the Paperwork Crisis That Could Unite Them,” Dec. 31, 2019). They point out that, over the last half century, physicians have remained isolated on the sidelines, finding just enough voice to grumble. Nurses have in a variety of situations organized to effect change in their working conditions – in some cases by forming labor unions.

The authors of this op-ed piece, a physician and a nurse, make a strong argument that the time has come for nurses and doctors shake off the shackles of their stereotypic roles and join in creating a loud, forceful, and effective voice to demand a working environment in which the computer functions as an asset and no longer as the terrible burden it has become. Neither group has the power to do it alone, but together they may be able to turn the tide. For physicians it will probably mean venturing several steps outside of their comfort zone. But working shoulder to shoulder with nurses may provide the courage to speak out.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Email him at [email protected].