Commentary

Most of the papers I review merely validate a relationship that most of us, including the investigators, have already assumed based on common sense. However, every now and then I encounter a study whose findings clearly don’t support the researchers’ initial thesis. The most recent example of this unexpected finding is a paper designed to determine whether the sound of a crying infant would have an effect on a parent’s ability to accurately mix formula.

After a cursory reading of the investigators’ plan, most of us would have assumed from our own difficulties trying to accomplish something while our infant is crying that the crying would have a negative effect on our accuracy. Especially if it was a task that required careful measurement. However, when I skipped ahead to read the paper’s conclusion I was surprised that the investigators could found no significant negative relationship.

The explanation for this counterintuitive finding became readily apparent when I read the details of the study’s design more carefully. The investigators had chosen to use a generic recording of an infant crying, not the parent’s child nor even a live generic child on site.

No one enjoys listening to a child cry. It is certainly not a pleasant sound to the human ear. We seem to be hardwired to find it irritating. But, listening to our own child cry raises an entirely different suite of emotions, particularly if the child is close enough for us to intervene.

I’m not sure exactly what made the investigators choose a generic recording, but I suspect it was less expensive. Otherwise it would have required that the parents agree to subjecting their child to some stimulus that would have predictably induced the child to cry. Fortunately, the investigators were able to regroup in the wake of this lack of common sense in their experimental design and realized that, while their data failed to show a negative association with crying, it did provide an important message. Formula mixing errors, some with potentially harmful consequences, are far too common. In a commentary accompanying this paper, a pediatrician not involved in the study observes that, in our efforts to promote breastfeeding, we have given short shrift to teaching parents about accurate and safe formula preparation. 

But, let’s return to the crying piece. Why is it so difficult for parents to tolerate their own crying infant? Common sense should tell us that we know our infant is helpless. The little child is totally reliant on us to for nutrition and protection from the ever-present environmental threats to its health and safety in the environment. In short, whether we are parents, daycare providers, or the mother’s boyfriend who has been left in charge, we are totally responsible for the life of that infant, at times a heavy burden.

We must accept that from birth some of us are better able to tolerate and function with a crying infant in our care. That example of biologic variability is just one of the reasons why so many families find it difficult to set limits and follow through with consequences. When I have written about and spoken to parents in the office about discipline, I am happy if I can convince both parents to be on the same page (literally sometimes) in how they respond to their crying child.

Helping an infant learn to put itself to sleep is usually the first challenge that requires some agreement between parents on how long they can tolerate crying. Although allowing the infant to cry itself to sleep may be the best and most efficient strategy, it isn’t going to work when two parents and/or caregivers have widely different cry tolerances. In some situations these discrepancies can be managed by having the less tolerant parent temporarily move himself/herself to a location out of earshot. Something often easier said than accomplished.

At the heart of the solution is an acceptance by both parents that differing cry intolerances are not unusual and don’t imply that one partner is a better parent. As advisors we also must accept this reality and help the family find some other solution. Nothing is gained by allowing a disagreement between parents to make an already uncomfortable situation any worse.

While we don’t give out merit badges for it, being able to tolerate one’s own child crying for brief periods of time is a gift that can be helpful in certain situations. It is not a skill listed in the curriculum of most parenting classes, but learning more about what prompts babies to cry can be very helpful. This educational approach is exemplified by a Pediatrics Patient Page in a recent issue of JAMA Pediatrics. It’s rarely hunger and most often is sleep deprivation. It’s rarely the result of an undiscovered injury or medical condition, but may be a response to an overstimulating environment.

For those of us who are advisers, one of our responsibilities is to be alert to those few individuals whose intolerance to crying is so great that they are likely to injure the child or its mother to stop the crying. The simple question at an early well-child visit should be something like “How is everyone in the house when the child starts crying” might save a life. The stereotypic example is the young boyfriend of the mother, who may suspect that he is not the biologic father. However, any parent who is feeling insecure because of a financial situation, poor physical or mental health, or fatigue may lash out to achieve quiet. Crying is one of the realities of infancy. It is our job to help parents cope with it safely.

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.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

Most of the papers I review merely validate a relationship that most of us, including the investigators, have already assumed based on common sense. However, every now and then I encounter a study whose findings clearly don’t support the researchers’ initial thesis. The most recent example of this unexpected finding is a paper designed to determine whether the sound of a crying infant would have an effect on a parent’s ability to accurately mix formula.

After a cursory reading of the investigators’ plan, most of us would have assumed from our own difficulties trying to accomplish something while our infant is crying that the crying would have a negative effect on our accuracy. Especially if it was a task that required careful measurement. However, when I skipped ahead to read the paper’s conclusion I was surprised that the investigators could found no significant negative relationship.

The explanation for this counterintuitive finding became readily apparent when I read the details of the study’s design more carefully. The investigators had chosen to use a generic recording of an infant crying, not the parent’s child nor even a live generic child on site.

No one enjoys listening to a child cry. It is certainly not a pleasant sound to the human ear. We seem to be hardwired to find it irritating. But, listening to our own child cry raises an entirely different suite of emotions, particularly if the child is close enough for us to intervene.

I’m not sure exactly what made the investigators choose a generic recording, but I suspect it was less expensive. Otherwise it would have required that the parents agree to subjecting their child to some stimulus that would have predictably induced the child to cry. Fortunately, the investigators were able to regroup in the wake of this lack of common sense in their experimental design and realized that, while their data failed to show a negative association with crying, it did provide an important message. Formula mixing errors, some with potentially harmful consequences, are far too common. In a commentary accompanying this paper, a pediatrician not involved in the study observes that, in our efforts to promote breastfeeding, we have given short shrift to teaching parents about accurate and safe formula preparation. 

But, let’s return to the crying piece. Why is it so difficult for parents to tolerate their own crying infant? Common sense should tell us that we know our infant is helpless. The little child is totally reliant on us to for nutrition and protection from the ever-present environmental threats to its health and safety in the environment. In short, whether we are parents, daycare providers, or the mother’s boyfriend who has been left in charge, we are totally responsible for the life of that infant, at times a heavy burden.

We must accept that from birth some of us are better able to tolerate and function with a crying infant in our care. That example of biologic variability is just one of the reasons why so many families find it difficult to set limits and follow through with consequences. When I have written about and spoken to parents in the office about discipline, I am happy if I can convince both parents to be on the same page (literally sometimes) in how they respond to their crying child.

Helping an infant learn to put itself to sleep is usually the first challenge that requires some agreement between parents on how long they can tolerate crying. Although allowing the infant to cry itself to sleep may be the best and most efficient strategy, it isn’t going to work when two parents and/or caregivers have widely different cry tolerances. In some situations these discrepancies can be managed by having the less tolerant parent temporarily move himself/herself to a location out of earshot. Something often easier said than accomplished.

At the heart of the solution is an acceptance by both parents that differing cry intolerances are not unusual and don’t imply that one partner is a better parent. As advisors we also must accept this reality and help the family find some other solution. Nothing is gained by allowing a disagreement between parents to make an already uncomfortable situation any worse.

While we don’t give out merit badges for it, being able to tolerate one’s own child crying for brief periods of time is a gift that can be helpful in certain situations. It is not a skill listed in the curriculum of most parenting classes, but learning more about what prompts babies to cry can be very helpful. This educational approach is exemplified by a Pediatrics Patient Page in a recent issue of JAMA Pediatrics. It’s rarely hunger and most often is sleep deprivation. It’s rarely the result of an undiscovered injury or medical condition, but may be a response to an overstimulating environment.

For those of us who are advisers, one of our responsibilities is to be alert to those few individuals whose intolerance to crying is so great that they are likely to injure the child or its mother to stop the crying. The simple question at an early well-child visit should be something like “How is everyone in the house when the child starts crying” might save a life. The stereotypic example is the young boyfriend of the mother, who may suspect that he is not the biologic father. However, any parent who is feeling insecure because of a financial situation, poor physical or mental health, or fatigue may lash out to achieve quiet. Crying is one of the realities of infancy. It is our job to help parents cope with it safely.

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.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

Most of the papers I review merely validate a relationship that most of us, including the investigators, have already assumed based on common sense. However, every now and then I encounter a study whose findings clearly don’t support the researchers’ initial thesis. The most recent example of this unexpected finding is a paper designed to determine whether the sound of a crying infant would have an effect on a parent’s ability to accurately mix formula.

After a cursory reading of the investigators’ plan, most of us would have assumed from our own difficulties trying to accomplish something while our infant is crying that the crying would have a negative effect on our accuracy. Especially if it was a task that required careful measurement. However, when I skipped ahead to read the paper’s conclusion I was surprised that the investigators could found no significant negative relationship.

The explanation for this counterintuitive finding became readily apparent when I read the details of the study’s design more carefully. The investigators had chosen to use a generic recording of an infant crying, not the parent’s child nor even a live generic child on site.

No one enjoys listening to a child cry. It is certainly not a pleasant sound to the human ear. We seem to be hardwired to find it irritating. But, listening to our own child cry raises an entirely different suite of emotions, particularly if the child is close enough for us to intervene.

I’m not sure exactly what made the investigators choose a generic recording, but I suspect it was less expensive. Otherwise it would have required that the parents agree to subjecting their child to some stimulus that would have predictably induced the child to cry. Fortunately, the investigators were able to regroup in the wake of this lack of common sense in their experimental design and realized that, while their data failed to show a negative association with crying, it did provide an important message. Formula mixing errors, some with potentially harmful consequences, are far too common. In a commentary accompanying this paper, a pediatrician not involved in the study observes that, in our efforts to promote breastfeeding, we have given short shrift to teaching parents about accurate and safe formula preparation. 

But, let’s return to the crying piece. Why is it so difficult for parents to tolerate their own crying infant? Common sense should tell us that we know our infant is helpless. The little child is totally reliant on us to for nutrition and protection from the ever-present environmental threats to its health and safety in the environment. In short, whether we are parents, daycare providers, or the mother’s boyfriend who has been left in charge, we are totally responsible for the life of that infant, at times a heavy burden.

We must accept that from birth some of us are better able to tolerate and function with a crying infant in our care. That example of biologic variability is just one of the reasons why so many families find it difficult to set limits and follow through with consequences. When I have written about and spoken to parents in the office about discipline, I am happy if I can convince both parents to be on the same page (literally sometimes) in how they respond to their crying child.

Helping an infant learn to put itself to sleep is usually the first challenge that requires some agreement between parents on how long they can tolerate crying. Although allowing the infant to cry itself to sleep may be the best and most efficient strategy, it isn’t going to work when two parents and/or caregivers have widely different cry tolerances. In some situations these discrepancies can be managed by having the less tolerant parent temporarily move himself/herself to a location out of earshot. Something often easier said than accomplished.

At the heart of the solution is an acceptance by both parents that differing cry intolerances are not unusual and don’t imply that one partner is a better parent. As advisors we also must accept this reality and help the family find some other solution. Nothing is gained by allowing a disagreement between parents to make an already uncomfortable situation any worse.

While we don’t give out merit badges for it, being able to tolerate one’s own child crying for brief periods of time is a gift that can be helpful in certain situations. It is not a skill listed in the curriculum of most parenting classes, but learning more about what prompts babies to cry can be very helpful. This educational approach is exemplified by a Pediatrics Patient Page in a recent issue of JAMA Pediatrics. It’s rarely hunger and most often is sleep deprivation. It’s rarely the result of an undiscovered injury or medical condition, but may be a response to an overstimulating environment.

For those of us who are advisers, one of our responsibilities is to be alert to those few individuals whose intolerance to crying is so great that they are likely to injure the child or its mother to stop the crying. The simple question at an early well-child visit should be something like “How is everyone in the house when the child starts crying” might save a life. The stereotypic example is the young boyfriend of the mother, who may suspect that he is not the biologic father. However, any parent who is feeling insecure because of a financial situation, poor physical or mental health, or fatigue may lash out to achieve quiet. Crying is one of the realities of infancy. It is our job to help parents cope with it safely.

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.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

This transcript has been edited for clarity. 

Blood pressure. If you’re a primary care provider trying to do right by your patients, you might be understandably confused by the current mishmash of guidelines with different blood pressure targets. But as chaotic as things are, at least it’s not the 1930s, when you might hear John Hay give a lecture to the British Medical Association and say, “The greatest danger to a man with high blood pressure lies in its discovery, because then some fool is certain to try and reduce it.”

Yeah, he said that. But what happened in the 1930s stays in the 1930s. And now we can at least agree that we should be treating high blood pressure. But what’s the goal we should be aiming for? This is On Second Thought. 

We’ve come a long way since FDR was recording blood pressures of 200 and his doctor prescribed him barbiturates and massage therapy.

That s#$# don’t fly no more. Over the past hundred years, we have become much more aggressive in treating blood pressure. Remember the Oslo study? It defined mild hypertension as a blood pressure between 150 and 180 mm Hg. Now, those numbers send people screaming to the emergency room. So, let’s acknowledge that things are substantially better than they once were. Let’s agree on that and we can start to heal this nation again. 

Before we get into the numbers, when we’re treating blood pressure, let’s make a few points about measuring it. Obviously, to treat something, you have to measure it properly. Two recent trials have illustrated that these details matter a lot.

The Cuff(SZ) randomized crossover trial — and it took me a minute to realize that Cuff(SZ) meant cuff size, so bravo, Ishigami et al — showed that picking the wrong cuff size could affect BP measurements by 4.5 points if you were one size off. If you were two sizes too small, you overestimated BP by almost 20 points.

Add on here another recent study, the ARMS crossover randomized clinical trial, looking at how arm position affected BP measures. If the arm was resting on your lap or hanging by your side, that overestimated blood pressure by 4 and 6.5 points. So sometimes you have to remember the fundamentals: cuff size, arm position — it might make the difference between increasing or maintaining the patient’s meds.

But on to the main show. What numbers should we be aiming for? We no longer live in the “BP 200, the president’s going to have a stroke” world of the 1940s, and even a BP of 150 is considered quite high these days. Studies like the MRC trial, INVEST, and SPRINT have pushed BP targets ever lower. SPRINT, in particular, randomized patients to a blood pressure target under 120 systolic vs under 140 systolic, and the under-120 arm won out with fewer cardiovascular events and lower all-cause mortality.

Pretty definitive slam dunk. But the more intensive treatment came with more hypotension, syncope, and kidney injury, because there is no free lunch in medicine. And ditto with BPROAD, just published in The New England Journal of Medicine and presented at the American Heart Association annual meeting. A diabetic population randomized to 120 vs 140 as a BP target showed that more aggressive treatment was better.

Fewer cardiovascular events, like stroke, but no mortality difference, and more hypotension. So a cardiovascular benefit at the cost of more side effects. Now, like all cardiologists, my motto is “Save the heart and screw the kidney.” But if you do care about the other organs in this meat sack that we call a human body, the question you need to wrestle with is, how much do you value cardiovascular protection vs how willing are you to tolerate side effects?

Hypotension may not sound dangerous, but gravity is an unforgiving mistress. If you painstakingly compile the summary of the various BP guidelines for easy perusal, you would notice something critical: One, I have too much free time on my hands; two, the disagreements are not really all that profound.

Arguing about 120 vs 130 vs 140 is not the same as saying, “Drugs schmugs; a good massage will fix what ails you, and here are some addictive sleeping pills for good measure.” Physicians from the 1930s were a little sketchy. So much of this controversy is about how you define high-risk patients and what are the age cutoffs.

Basically, the cardiovascular guidelines say, “Treat them all and let God sort it out” because they care about cardiovascular events and are concerned about cardiovascular endpoints. Whereas general practice guidelines put more emphasis on potential side effects and admittedly tend to treat a not so high-risk population, so they have laxer targets.

A 2014 analysis from the Blood Pressure Lowering Treatment Trialists’ Collaboration [The Lancet] had a good mathematical way of explaining this problem. Now, lowering blood pressure is obviously a good thing. That prevents heart attacks, strokes, kidney failure, and all that. Please don’t let hypertension denialism become a thing.

Let’s start with the basics. Treating high blood pressure led to a 15% to 18% decrease in cardiovascular events, pretty consistently across all risk categories, and other analyses have found that every 5-point decrease in blood pressure gives you about a 10% decrease in major cardiovascular events on the relative-risk scale. 

While the benefits are pretty consistent across all groups, that difference in baseline risk translates into different absolute benefits. In the Lancet paper, when the population was divided into four different groups based on their cardiovascular risk, the absolute risk reduction in the lowest-risk group was 14 fewer cardiovascular events if you treat 1000 patients for 5 years.

With each higher-risk group, it was 20 fewer, 24 fewer, and 38 fewer. At the lowest-risk group, the number needed to treat was 71, 50, 42, and 26 fewer cardiovascular events with 5 years of treatment. 

And herein lies the secret to the disagreement: If you have a high-risk patient, there is a big benefit to bringing that blood pressure down from 135 to 130. Whereas for a low-risk patient, it probably doesn’t matter as much. And the cardiovascular benefits are going to be offset by the side effects and the risks for hypotension. 

Of course, there’s a simple solution to this dilemma: Just speak to the patient in front of you. Treat high blood pressure, and if your patient’s blood pressure drops or they get dizzy or have fainting spells, then just ease up on the meds. It’s not rocket science; it’s just cardiology. 

Arguing about five millimeters of mercury of blood pressure is probably less important from the public health perspective than the fact that tens of millions of people in the United States are unaware that they have hypertension, and even those diagnosed are being inadequately treated.

So, let’s all do better as a medical community. Nobody should have untreated hypertension in this day and age. It’s not the 1930s. 
 

Dr Labos, Cardiologist, Kirkland Medical Center, Montreal, Quebec, Canada, has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.

This transcript has been edited for clarity. 

Blood pressure. If you’re a primary care provider trying to do right by your patients, you might be understandably confused by the current mishmash of guidelines with different blood pressure targets. But as chaotic as things are, at least it’s not the 1930s, when you might hear John Hay give a lecture to the British Medical Association and say, “The greatest danger to a man with high blood pressure lies in its discovery, because then some fool is certain to try and reduce it.”

Yeah, he said that. But what happened in the 1930s stays in the 1930s. And now we can at least agree that we should be treating high blood pressure. But what’s the goal we should be aiming for? This is On Second Thought. 

We’ve come a long way since FDR was recording blood pressures of 200 and his doctor prescribed him barbiturates and massage therapy.

That s#$# don’t fly no more. Over the past hundred years, we have become much more aggressive in treating blood pressure. Remember the Oslo study? It defined mild hypertension as a blood pressure between 150 and 180 mm Hg. Now, those numbers send people screaming to the emergency room. So, let’s acknowledge that things are substantially better than they once were. Let’s agree on that and we can start to heal this nation again. 

Before we get into the numbers, when we’re treating blood pressure, let’s make a few points about measuring it. Obviously, to treat something, you have to measure it properly. Two recent trials have illustrated that these details matter a lot.

The Cuff(SZ) randomized crossover trial — and it took me a minute to realize that Cuff(SZ) meant cuff size, so bravo, Ishigami et al — showed that picking the wrong cuff size could affect BP measurements by 4.5 points if you were one size off. If you were two sizes too small, you overestimated BP by almost 20 points.

Add on here another recent study, the ARMS crossover randomized clinical trial, looking at how arm position affected BP measures. If the arm was resting on your lap or hanging by your side, that overestimated blood pressure by 4 and 6.5 points. So sometimes you have to remember the fundamentals: cuff size, arm position — it might make the difference between increasing or maintaining the patient’s meds.

But on to the main show. What numbers should we be aiming for? We no longer live in the “BP 200, the president’s going to have a stroke” world of the 1940s, and even a BP of 150 is considered quite high these days. Studies like the MRC trial, INVEST, and SPRINT have pushed BP targets ever lower. SPRINT, in particular, randomized patients to a blood pressure target under 120 systolic vs under 140 systolic, and the under-120 arm won out with fewer cardiovascular events and lower all-cause mortality.

Pretty definitive slam dunk. But the more intensive treatment came with more hypotension, syncope, and kidney injury, because there is no free lunch in medicine. And ditto with BPROAD, just published in The New England Journal of Medicine and presented at the American Heart Association annual meeting. A diabetic population randomized to 120 vs 140 as a BP target showed that more aggressive treatment was better.

Fewer cardiovascular events, like stroke, but no mortality difference, and more hypotension. So a cardiovascular benefit at the cost of more side effects. Now, like all cardiologists, my motto is “Save the heart and screw the kidney.” But if you do care about the other organs in this meat sack that we call a human body, the question you need to wrestle with is, how much do you value cardiovascular protection vs how willing are you to tolerate side effects?

Hypotension may not sound dangerous, but gravity is an unforgiving mistress. If you painstakingly compile the summary of the various BP guidelines for easy perusal, you would notice something critical: One, I have too much free time on my hands; two, the disagreements are not really all that profound.

Arguing about 120 vs 130 vs 140 is not the same as saying, “Drugs schmugs; a good massage will fix what ails you, and here are some addictive sleeping pills for good measure.” Physicians from the 1930s were a little sketchy. So much of this controversy is about how you define high-risk patients and what are the age cutoffs.

Basically, the cardiovascular guidelines say, “Treat them all and let God sort it out” because they care about cardiovascular events and are concerned about cardiovascular endpoints. Whereas general practice guidelines put more emphasis on potential side effects and admittedly tend to treat a not so high-risk population, so they have laxer targets.

A 2014 analysis from the Blood Pressure Lowering Treatment Trialists’ Collaboration [The Lancet] had a good mathematical way of explaining this problem. Now, lowering blood pressure is obviously a good thing. That prevents heart attacks, strokes, kidney failure, and all that. Please don’t let hypertension denialism become a thing.

Let’s start with the basics. Treating high blood pressure led to a 15% to 18% decrease in cardiovascular events, pretty consistently across all risk categories, and other analyses have found that every 5-point decrease in blood pressure gives you about a 10% decrease in major cardiovascular events on the relative-risk scale. 

While the benefits are pretty consistent across all groups, that difference in baseline risk translates into different absolute benefits. In the Lancet paper, when the population was divided into four different groups based on their cardiovascular risk, the absolute risk reduction in the lowest-risk group was 14 fewer cardiovascular events if you treat 1000 patients for 5 years.

With each higher-risk group, it was 20 fewer, 24 fewer, and 38 fewer. At the lowest-risk group, the number needed to treat was 71, 50, 42, and 26 fewer cardiovascular events with 5 years of treatment. 

And herein lies the secret to the disagreement: If you have a high-risk patient, there is a big benefit to bringing that blood pressure down from 135 to 130. Whereas for a low-risk patient, it probably doesn’t matter as much. And the cardiovascular benefits are going to be offset by the side effects and the risks for hypotension. 

Of course, there’s a simple solution to this dilemma: Just speak to the patient in front of you. Treat high blood pressure, and if your patient’s blood pressure drops or they get dizzy or have fainting spells, then just ease up on the meds. It’s not rocket science; it’s just cardiology. 

Arguing about five millimeters of mercury of blood pressure is probably less important from the public health perspective than the fact that tens of millions of people in the United States are unaware that they have hypertension, and even those diagnosed are being inadequately treated.

So, let’s all do better as a medical community. Nobody should have untreated hypertension in this day and age. It’s not the 1930s. 
 

Dr Labos, Cardiologist, Kirkland Medical Center, Montreal, Quebec, Canada, has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.

This transcript has been edited for clarity. 

Blood pressure. If you’re a primary care provider trying to do right by your patients, you might be understandably confused by the current mishmash of guidelines with different blood pressure targets. But as chaotic as things are, at least it’s not the 1930s, when you might hear John Hay give a lecture to the British Medical Association and say, “The greatest danger to a man with high blood pressure lies in its discovery, because then some fool is certain to try and reduce it.”

Yeah, he said that. But what happened in the 1930s stays in the 1930s. And now we can at least agree that we should be treating high blood pressure. But what’s the goal we should be aiming for? This is On Second Thought. 

We’ve come a long way since FDR was recording blood pressures of 200 and his doctor prescribed him barbiturates and massage therapy.

That s#$# don’t fly no more. Over the past hundred years, we have become much more aggressive in treating blood pressure. Remember the Oslo study? It defined mild hypertension as a blood pressure between 150 and 180 mm Hg. Now, those numbers send people screaming to the emergency room. So, let’s acknowledge that things are substantially better than they once were. Let’s agree on that and we can start to heal this nation again. 

Before we get into the numbers, when we’re treating blood pressure, let’s make a few points about measuring it. Obviously, to treat something, you have to measure it properly. Two recent trials have illustrated that these details matter a lot.

The Cuff(SZ) randomized crossover trial — and it took me a minute to realize that Cuff(SZ) meant cuff size, so bravo, Ishigami et al — showed that picking the wrong cuff size could affect BP measurements by 4.5 points if you were one size off. If you were two sizes too small, you overestimated BP by almost 20 points.

Add on here another recent study, the ARMS crossover randomized clinical trial, looking at how arm position affected BP measures. If the arm was resting on your lap or hanging by your side, that overestimated blood pressure by 4 and 6.5 points. So sometimes you have to remember the fundamentals: cuff size, arm position — it might make the difference between increasing or maintaining the patient’s meds.

But on to the main show. What numbers should we be aiming for? We no longer live in the “BP 200, the president’s going to have a stroke” world of the 1940s, and even a BP of 150 is considered quite high these days. Studies like the MRC trial, INVEST, and SPRINT have pushed BP targets ever lower. SPRINT, in particular, randomized patients to a blood pressure target under 120 systolic vs under 140 systolic, and the under-120 arm won out with fewer cardiovascular events and lower all-cause mortality.

Pretty definitive slam dunk. But the more intensive treatment came with more hypotension, syncope, and kidney injury, because there is no free lunch in medicine. And ditto with BPROAD, just published in The New England Journal of Medicine and presented at the American Heart Association annual meeting. A diabetic population randomized to 120 vs 140 as a BP target showed that more aggressive treatment was better.

Fewer cardiovascular events, like stroke, but no mortality difference, and more hypotension. So a cardiovascular benefit at the cost of more side effects. Now, like all cardiologists, my motto is “Save the heart and screw the kidney.” But if you do care about the other organs in this meat sack that we call a human body, the question you need to wrestle with is, how much do you value cardiovascular protection vs how willing are you to tolerate side effects?

Hypotension may not sound dangerous, but gravity is an unforgiving mistress. If you painstakingly compile the summary of the various BP guidelines for easy perusal, you would notice something critical: One, I have too much free time on my hands; two, the disagreements are not really all that profound.

Arguing about 120 vs 130 vs 140 is not the same as saying, “Drugs schmugs; a good massage will fix what ails you, and here are some addictive sleeping pills for good measure.” Physicians from the 1930s were a little sketchy. So much of this controversy is about how you define high-risk patients and what are the age cutoffs.

Basically, the cardiovascular guidelines say, “Treat them all and let God sort it out” because they care about cardiovascular events and are concerned about cardiovascular endpoints. Whereas general practice guidelines put more emphasis on potential side effects and admittedly tend to treat a not so high-risk population, so they have laxer targets.

A 2014 analysis from the Blood Pressure Lowering Treatment Trialists’ Collaboration [The Lancet] had a good mathematical way of explaining this problem. Now, lowering blood pressure is obviously a good thing. That prevents heart attacks, strokes, kidney failure, and all that. Please don’t let hypertension denialism become a thing.

Let’s start with the basics. Treating high blood pressure led to a 15% to 18% decrease in cardiovascular events, pretty consistently across all risk categories, and other analyses have found that every 5-point decrease in blood pressure gives you about a 10% decrease in major cardiovascular events on the relative-risk scale. 

While the benefits are pretty consistent across all groups, that difference in baseline risk translates into different absolute benefits. In the Lancet paper, when the population was divided into four different groups based on their cardiovascular risk, the absolute risk reduction in the lowest-risk group was 14 fewer cardiovascular events if you treat 1000 patients for 5 years.

With each higher-risk group, it was 20 fewer, 24 fewer, and 38 fewer. At the lowest-risk group, the number needed to treat was 71, 50, 42, and 26 fewer cardiovascular events with 5 years of treatment. 

And herein lies the secret to the disagreement: If you have a high-risk patient, there is a big benefit to bringing that blood pressure down from 135 to 130. Whereas for a low-risk patient, it probably doesn’t matter as much. And the cardiovascular benefits are going to be offset by the side effects and the risks for hypotension. 

Of course, there’s a simple solution to this dilemma: Just speak to the patient in front of you. Treat high blood pressure, and if your patient’s blood pressure drops or they get dizzy or have fainting spells, then just ease up on the meds. It’s not rocket science; it’s just cardiology. 

Arguing about five millimeters of mercury of blood pressure is probably less important from the public health perspective than the fact that tens of millions of people in the United States are unaware that they have hypertension, and even those diagnosed are being inadequately treated.

So, let’s all do better as a medical community. Nobody should have untreated hypertension in this day and age. It’s not the 1930s. 
 

Dr Labos, Cardiologist, Kirkland Medical Center, Montreal, Quebec, Canada, has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.

A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.

The advent of social media has revolutionized the way patients access and consume health information. While this increased access has its merits, it also has given rise to the proliferation of medical myths, which have considerable effects on patient-physician interactions.¹ Myths are prevalent across all fields of health care, ranging from misconceptions about disease etiology and prevention to the efficacy and safety of treatments. This influx of misinformation can derail the clinical encounter, shifting the focus from evidence-based medicine to myth-busting.² The COVID-19 pandemic exacerbated this issue, as widespread lockdowns and social distancing measures limited access to in-person medical consultations, prompting patients to increasingly turn to online sources for health information that often were unreliable, thereby bypassing professional medical advice.³ Herein, we highlight the challenges and implications of common dermatology myths and provide strategies for effectively debunking these myths to enhance patient care.

Common Dermatology Myths

In dermatology, where visible and often distressing conditions such as acne and hair loss are common, the impact of myths on patient perceptions and treatment outcomes can be particularly profound. Patients often arrive for consultations with preconceived notions that are not grounded in scientific evidence. Common dermatologic myths include eczema and the efficacy of topical corticosteroids, the causes and treatment of hair loss, and risk factors associated with skin cancer.

Eczema and Topical Corticosteroids—Topical corticosteroids for eczema are safe and effective, but nonadherence due to phobias stemming from misinformation online can impede treatment.⁴ Myths such as red skin syndrome and topical corticosteroid addiction are prevalent. Red skin syndrome refers to claims that prolonged use of topical corticosteroids causes severe redness and burning of the skin and worsening eczema symptoms upon withdrawal. Topical corticosteroid addiction suggests that patients become dependent on corticosteroids, requiring higher doses over time to maintain efficacy. These misconceptions contribute to fear and avoidance of prescribed treatments.

Eczema myths often divert focus from its true etiology as a genetic inflammatory skin disease, suggesting instead that it is caused by leaky gut or food intolerances.⁴ Risks such as skin thinning and stunted growth often are exaggerated on social media and other nonmedical platforms, though these adverse effects rarely are seen when topical corticosteroids are used appropriately under medical supervision. Misinformation often is linked to companies promoting unregulated consultations, tests, or supposedly natural treatments, including herbal remedies that may surreptitiously contain corticosteroids without clear labeling. This fosters distrust of US Food and Drug Administration– approved and dermatologist-prescribed treatments, as patients may cite concerns based on experiences with or claims about unapproved products.⁴

Sunscreen and Skin Cancer—In 2018, the American Academy of Dermatology prioritized skin cancer prevention due to suboptimal public adoption of photoprotection measures.⁵ However, the proliferation of misinformation regarding sunscreen and its potential to cause skin cancer is a more pressing issue. Myths range from claims that sunscreen is ineffective to warnings that it is dangerous, with some social media influencers even suggesting that sunscreen causes skin cancer due to toxic ingredients.⁶ Oxybenzone, typically found in chemical sunscreens, has been criticized by some advocacy groups and social media influencers as a potential hormone disruptor (ie, a chemical that could interfere with hormone production).⁷ However, no conclusive evidence has shown that oxybenzone is harmful to humans. Consumer concerns often are based on animal studies in which rats are fed oxybenzone, but mathematical modeling has indicated it would take 277 years of sunscreen use by humans to match the doses used in these studies.⁸ The false association between sunscreen use and skin cancer is based on flawed studies that found higher rates of skin cancer—including melanoma—in sunscreen users compared to those who did not use sunscreen. However, those using sunscreen also were more likely to travel to sunnier climates and engage in sunbathing, and it may have been this increased sun exposure that elevated their risk for skin cancer.⁷ It is imperative that the dermatology community counteract this type of misinformation with evidence-based advice.

Hair Loss—Some patients believe that hair loss is caused by wearing hats, frequent shampooing, or even stress in a way that oversimplifies complex physiological processes. Biotin, which commonly is added to supplements for hair, skin, and nails, has been linked to potential risks, such as interference with laboratory testing and false-positive or false-negative results in critical medical tests, which can lead to misdiagnosis or inappropriate treatment.⁹ Biotin interference can result in falsely low troponin readings, which are critical in diagnosing acute myocardial infarction. Tests for other hormones such as cortisol and parathyroid hormone also are affected, potentially impacting the evaluation and management of endocrine disorders. The US Food and Drug Administration has issued warnings for patients on this topic, emphasizing the importance of informing health care providers about any biotin supplementation prior to laboratory testing. Despite its popularity, there is no substantial scientific evidence to suggest that biotin supplementation promotes hair growth in anyone other than those with deficiency, which is quite rare.⁹

Myths and the Patient-Physician Relationship

The proliferation of medical myths and misinformation affects the dynamic between patients and dermatologists in several ways. Research across various medical fields has demonstrated that misinformation can substantially impact patient behavior and treatment adherence. Like many other specialists, dermatologists often spend considerable time during consultations with patients debunking myths and correcting misconceptions, which can detract from discussing more critical aspects of the patient’s condition and treatment plan and lead to frustration and anxiety among patients. It also can be challenging for physicians to have these conversations without alienating patients, who may distrust medical recommendations and believe that natural or alternative treatments are superior. This can lead to noncompliance with prescribed treatments, and patients may instead opt to try unproven remedies they encounter online, ultimately resulting in poorer health outcomes.

Strategies to Debunk Myths

By implementing the following strategies, dermatologists can combat the spread of myths, foster trust among patients, and promote adherence to evidence-based treatments:

• Provide educational outreach. Preemptively address myths by giving patients accurate and accessible resources. Including a dedicated section on your clinic’s website with articles, frequently asked questions, videos, and links to reputable sources can be effective. Sharing patient testimonials and before-and-after photographs to demonstrate the success of evidence-based treatments also is recommended, as real-life stories can be powerful tools in dispelling myths.
• Practice effective communication. Involve patients in the decision-making process by discussing their treatment goals, preferences, and concerns. It is important to present all options clearly, including the potential benefits and adverse effects. Discuss the expected outcomes and timelines, and be transparent about the limitations of certain treatment—honesty helps build trust and sets realistic expectations.
• Conduct structured consultations. Ensure that consultations with patients follow a structured format—history, physical examination, and discussion—to help keep the focus on evidence-based practice.
• Leverage technology. Guide patients toward reliable digital patient education tools to empower them with accurate information. Hosting live sessions on social media platforms during which patients can ask questions and receive evidence-based answers also can be beneficial.

Final Thoughts

In summary, the rise of medical myths poses a considerable challenge to dermatologic practice. By understanding the sources and impacts of these myths and employing strategies to dispel them, dermatologists can better navigate the complexities of modern patient interactions and ensure that care remains grounded in scientific evidence.

The advent of social media has revolutionized the way patients access and consume health information. While this increased access has its merits, it also has given rise to the proliferation of medical myths, which have considerable effects on patient-physician interactions.¹ Myths are prevalent across all fields of health care, ranging from misconceptions about disease etiology and prevention to the efficacy and safety of treatments. This influx of misinformation can derail the clinical encounter, shifting the focus from evidence-based medicine to myth-busting.² The COVID-19 pandemic exacerbated this issue, as widespread lockdowns and social distancing measures limited access to in-person medical consultations, prompting patients to increasingly turn to online sources for health information that often were unreliable, thereby bypassing professional medical advice.³ Herein, we highlight the challenges and implications of common dermatology myths and provide strategies for effectively debunking these myths to enhance patient care.

Common Dermatology Myths

In dermatology, where visible and often distressing conditions such as acne and hair loss are common, the impact of myths on patient perceptions and treatment outcomes can be particularly profound. Patients often arrive for consultations with preconceived notions that are not grounded in scientific evidence. Common dermatologic myths include eczema and the efficacy of topical corticosteroids, the causes and treatment of hair loss, and risk factors associated with skin cancer.

Eczema and Topical Corticosteroids—Topical corticosteroids for eczema are safe and effective, but nonadherence due to phobias stemming from misinformation online can impede treatment.⁴ Myths such as red skin syndrome and topical corticosteroid addiction are prevalent. Red skin syndrome refers to claims that prolonged use of topical corticosteroids causes severe redness and burning of the skin and worsening eczema symptoms upon withdrawal. Topical corticosteroid addiction suggests that patients become dependent on corticosteroids, requiring higher doses over time to maintain efficacy. These misconceptions contribute to fear and avoidance of prescribed treatments.

Eczema myths often divert focus from its true etiology as a genetic inflammatory skin disease, suggesting instead that it is caused by leaky gut or food intolerances.⁴ Risks such as skin thinning and stunted growth often are exaggerated on social media and other nonmedical platforms, though these adverse effects rarely are seen when topical corticosteroids are used appropriately under medical supervision. Misinformation often is linked to companies promoting unregulated consultations, tests, or supposedly natural treatments, including herbal remedies that may surreptitiously contain corticosteroids without clear labeling. This fosters distrust of US Food and Drug Administration– approved and dermatologist-prescribed treatments, as patients may cite concerns based on experiences with or claims about unapproved products.⁴

Sunscreen and Skin Cancer—In 2018, the American Academy of Dermatology prioritized skin cancer prevention due to suboptimal public adoption of photoprotection measures.⁵ However, the proliferation of misinformation regarding sunscreen and its potential to cause skin cancer is a more pressing issue. Myths range from claims that sunscreen is ineffective to warnings that it is dangerous, with some social media influencers even suggesting that sunscreen causes skin cancer due to toxic ingredients.⁶ Oxybenzone, typically found in chemical sunscreens, has been criticized by some advocacy groups and social media influencers as a potential hormone disruptor (ie, a chemical that could interfere with hormone production).⁷ However, no conclusive evidence has shown that oxybenzone is harmful to humans. Consumer concerns often are based on animal studies in which rats are fed oxybenzone, but mathematical modeling has indicated it would take 277 years of sunscreen use by humans to match the doses used in these studies.⁸ The false association between sunscreen use and skin cancer is based on flawed studies that found higher rates of skin cancer—including melanoma—in sunscreen users compared to those who did not use sunscreen. However, those using sunscreen also were more likely to travel to sunnier climates and engage in sunbathing, and it may have been this increased sun exposure that elevated their risk for skin cancer.⁷ It is imperative that the dermatology community counteract this type of misinformation with evidence-based advice.

Hair Loss—Some patients believe that hair loss is caused by wearing hats, frequent shampooing, or even stress in a way that oversimplifies complex physiological processes. Biotin, which commonly is added to supplements for hair, skin, and nails, has been linked to potential risks, such as interference with laboratory testing and false-positive or false-negative results in critical medical tests, which can lead to misdiagnosis or inappropriate treatment.⁹ Biotin interference can result in falsely low troponin readings, which are critical in diagnosing acute myocardial infarction. Tests for other hormones such as cortisol and parathyroid hormone also are affected, potentially impacting the evaluation and management of endocrine disorders. The US Food and Drug Administration has issued warnings for patients on this topic, emphasizing the importance of informing health care providers about any biotin supplementation prior to laboratory testing. Despite its popularity, there is no substantial scientific evidence to suggest that biotin supplementation promotes hair growth in anyone other than those with deficiency, which is quite rare.⁹

Myths and the Patient-Physician Relationship

The proliferation of medical myths and misinformation affects the dynamic between patients and dermatologists in several ways. Research across various medical fields has demonstrated that misinformation can substantially impact patient behavior and treatment adherence. Like many other specialists, dermatologists often spend considerable time during consultations with patients debunking myths and correcting misconceptions, which can detract from discussing more critical aspects of the patient’s condition and treatment plan and lead to frustration and anxiety among patients. It also can be challenging for physicians to have these conversations without alienating patients, who may distrust medical recommendations and believe that natural or alternative treatments are superior. This can lead to noncompliance with prescribed treatments, and patients may instead opt to try unproven remedies they encounter online, ultimately resulting in poorer health outcomes.

Strategies to Debunk Myths

By implementing the following strategies, dermatologists can combat the spread of myths, foster trust among patients, and promote adherence to evidence-based treatments:

• Provide educational outreach. Preemptively address myths by giving patients accurate and accessible resources. Including a dedicated section on your clinic’s website with articles, frequently asked questions, videos, and links to reputable sources can be effective. Sharing patient testimonials and before-and-after photographs to demonstrate the success of evidence-based treatments also is recommended, as real-life stories can be powerful tools in dispelling myths.
• Practice effective communication. Involve patients in the decision-making process by discussing their treatment goals, preferences, and concerns. It is important to present all options clearly, including the potential benefits and adverse effects. Discuss the expected outcomes and timelines, and be transparent about the limitations of certain treatment—honesty helps build trust and sets realistic expectations.
• Conduct structured consultations. Ensure that consultations with patients follow a structured format—history, physical examination, and discussion—to help keep the focus on evidence-based practice.
• Leverage technology. Guide patients toward reliable digital patient education tools to empower them with accurate information. Hosting live sessions on social media platforms during which patients can ask questions and receive evidence-based answers also can be beneficial.

Final Thoughts

In summary, the rise of medical myths poses a considerable challenge to dermatologic practice. By understanding the sources and impacts of these myths and employing strategies to dispel them, dermatologists can better navigate the complexities of modern patient interactions and ensure that care remains grounded in scientific evidence.

The advent of social media has revolutionized the way patients access and consume health information. While this increased access has its merits, it also has given rise to the proliferation of medical myths, which have considerable effects on patient-physician interactions.¹ Myths are prevalent across all fields of health care, ranging from misconceptions about disease etiology and prevention to the efficacy and safety of treatments. This influx of misinformation can derail the clinical encounter, shifting the focus from evidence-based medicine to myth-busting.² The COVID-19 pandemic exacerbated this issue, as widespread lockdowns and social distancing measures limited access to in-person medical consultations, prompting patients to increasingly turn to online sources for health information that often were unreliable, thereby bypassing professional medical advice.³ Herein, we highlight the challenges and implications of common dermatology myths and provide strategies for effectively debunking these myths to enhance patient care.

Common Dermatology Myths

In dermatology, where visible and often distressing conditions such as acne and hair loss are common, the impact of myths on patient perceptions and treatment outcomes can be particularly profound. Patients often arrive for consultations with preconceived notions that are not grounded in scientific evidence. Common dermatologic myths include eczema and the efficacy of topical corticosteroids, the causes and treatment of hair loss, and risk factors associated with skin cancer.

Eczema and Topical Corticosteroids—Topical corticosteroids for eczema are safe and effective, but nonadherence due to phobias stemming from misinformation online can impede treatment.⁴ Myths such as red skin syndrome and topical corticosteroid addiction are prevalent. Red skin syndrome refers to claims that prolonged use of topical corticosteroids causes severe redness and burning of the skin and worsening eczema symptoms upon withdrawal. Topical corticosteroid addiction suggests that patients become dependent on corticosteroids, requiring higher doses over time to maintain efficacy. These misconceptions contribute to fear and avoidance of prescribed treatments.

Eczema myths often divert focus from its true etiology as a genetic inflammatory skin disease, suggesting instead that it is caused by leaky gut or food intolerances.⁴ Risks such as skin thinning and stunted growth often are exaggerated on social media and other nonmedical platforms, though these adverse effects rarely are seen when topical corticosteroids are used appropriately under medical supervision. Misinformation often is linked to companies promoting unregulated consultations, tests, or supposedly natural treatments, including herbal remedies that may surreptitiously contain corticosteroids without clear labeling. This fosters distrust of US Food and Drug Administration– approved and dermatologist-prescribed treatments, as patients may cite concerns based on experiences with or claims about unapproved products.⁴

Sunscreen and Skin Cancer—In 2018, the American Academy of Dermatology prioritized skin cancer prevention due to suboptimal public adoption of photoprotection measures.⁵ However, the proliferation of misinformation regarding sunscreen and its potential to cause skin cancer is a more pressing issue. Myths range from claims that sunscreen is ineffective to warnings that it is dangerous, with some social media influencers even suggesting that sunscreen causes skin cancer due to toxic ingredients.⁶ Oxybenzone, typically found in chemical sunscreens, has been criticized by some advocacy groups and social media influencers as a potential hormone disruptor (ie, a chemical that could interfere with hormone production).⁷ However, no conclusive evidence has shown that oxybenzone is harmful to humans. Consumer concerns often are based on animal studies in which rats are fed oxybenzone, but mathematical modeling has indicated it would take 277 years of sunscreen use by humans to match the doses used in these studies.⁸ The false association between sunscreen use and skin cancer is based on flawed studies that found higher rates of skin cancer—including melanoma—in sunscreen users compared to those who did not use sunscreen. However, those using sunscreen also were more likely to travel to sunnier climates and engage in sunbathing, and it may have been this increased sun exposure that elevated their risk for skin cancer.⁷ It is imperative that the dermatology community counteract this type of misinformation with evidence-based advice.

Hair Loss—Some patients believe that hair loss is caused by wearing hats, frequent shampooing, or even stress in a way that oversimplifies complex physiological processes. Biotin, which commonly is added to supplements for hair, skin, and nails, has been linked to potential risks, such as interference with laboratory testing and false-positive or false-negative results in critical medical tests, which can lead to misdiagnosis or inappropriate treatment.⁹ Biotin interference can result in falsely low troponin readings, which are critical in diagnosing acute myocardial infarction. Tests for other hormones such as cortisol and parathyroid hormone also are affected, potentially impacting the evaluation and management of endocrine disorders. The US Food and Drug Administration has issued warnings for patients on this topic, emphasizing the importance of informing health care providers about any biotin supplementation prior to laboratory testing. Despite its popularity, there is no substantial scientific evidence to suggest that biotin supplementation promotes hair growth in anyone other than those with deficiency, which is quite rare.⁹

Myths and the Patient-Physician Relationship

The proliferation of medical myths and misinformation affects the dynamic between patients and dermatologists in several ways. Research across various medical fields has demonstrated that misinformation can substantially impact patient behavior and treatment adherence. Like many other specialists, dermatologists often spend considerable time during consultations with patients debunking myths and correcting misconceptions, which can detract from discussing more critical aspects of the patient’s condition and treatment plan and lead to frustration and anxiety among patients. It also can be challenging for physicians to have these conversations without alienating patients, who may distrust medical recommendations and believe that natural or alternative treatments are superior. This can lead to noncompliance with prescribed treatments, and patients may instead opt to try unproven remedies they encounter online, ultimately resulting in poorer health outcomes.

Strategies to Debunk Myths

By implementing the following strategies, dermatologists can combat the spread of myths, foster trust among patients, and promote adherence to evidence-based treatments:

• Provide educational outreach. Preemptively address myths by giving patients accurate and accessible resources. Including a dedicated section on your clinic’s website with articles, frequently asked questions, videos, and links to reputable sources can be effective. Sharing patient testimonials and before-and-after photographs to demonstrate the success of evidence-based treatments also is recommended, as real-life stories can be powerful tools in dispelling myths.
• Practice effective communication. Involve patients in the decision-making process by discussing their treatment goals, preferences, and concerns. It is important to present all options clearly, including the potential benefits and adverse effects. Discuss the expected outcomes and timelines, and be transparent about the limitations of certain treatment—honesty helps build trust and sets realistic expectations.
• Conduct structured consultations. Ensure that consultations with patients follow a structured format—history, physical examination, and discussion—to help keep the focus on evidence-based practice.
• Leverage technology. Guide patients toward reliable digital patient education tools to empower them with accurate information. Hosting live sessions on social media platforms during which patients can ask questions and receive evidence-based answers also can be beneficial.

Final Thoughts

In summary, the rise of medical myths poses a considerable challenge to dermatologic practice. By understanding the sources and impacts of these myths and employing strategies to dispel them, dermatologists can better navigate the complexities of modern patient interactions and ensure that care remains grounded in scientific evidence.

For the third straight year, firearms killed more children and teens than any other cause, including motor vehicle crashes and cancer. The population-wide toll taken by guns is equally as discouraging. Finally, this elephant in the room is getting some attention from the medical community, but the voices asking for change have most recently been coming from medical students who feel that gun violence deserves to be given a larger role in their education. It’s unclear why this plea is coming from the younger end of the medical community. It may be that, unlike most of their older instructors, these 18- to 25-year-olds have grown up under the growing threat of school shootings and become uncomfortably accustomed to active shooter drills.

Should We Look to Medical School for Answers?

There is no question that compared with the rest of this country the medical community needs to take gun violence more seriously. But, does the medical community need to take gun violence more seriously than the rest of the population? What should our response look like? To answer those questions we need to take several steps back to view the bigger picture.

Is the medical community more responsible for this current situation than any other segment of the population? Do physicians bear any more culpability than publishers who sell gun-related magazines? Since its inception pediatrics has taken on the role of advocate for children and their health and well-being. But, is there more we can and should do other than turn up the volume on our advocacy? 

While still taking the longer view, let’s ask ourselves what the role of medical school should be. Not just with respect to gun violence but in producing physicians and healthcare providers. We are approaching a crisis in primary care as it loses appeal with physicians at both ends of the age continuum. It could be because it pays poorly — certainly in relation to the cost of medical school — or because the awareness that if done well primary care requires a commitment that is difficult to square with many individuals’ lifestyle expectations. 

Is the traditional medical school the right place to be training primary care providers? Medical school is currently aimed at broad and deep exposure. The student will be exposed to the all the diseases to which he or she might be seeing anywhere in the world and at the same time will have learned the mechanisms down to the cellular level that lies behind that pathology. Does a primary care pediatrician practicing in a small city or suburbia need that depth of training? He or she might benefit from some breadth. But maybe it should be focused on socioeconomic and geographic population the doctor is likely to see. This is particularly true for gun-related deaths.

Returning our attention to gun violence and its relation to healthcare, let’s ask ourselves what role the traditional medical school should play. Should it be a breeding ground for gun control advocates? When physicians speak people tend to listen but our effectiveness on issues such as immunizations and gun control has not been what many have hoped for. The supply of guns available to the public in this country is staggering and certainly contributes to gun-related injuries and death. However, I’m afraid that making a significant dent in that supply, given our political history and current climate, is an issue whose ship has sailed.

On the other hand, as gun advocates are often quoted as saying, “it’s not guns that kill, it’s people.” We don’t need to go into to the fallacy of this argument, but it gives us a starting point from which a medical school might focus its efforts on addressing the fallout from gun violence. A curriculum that begins with a presentation of the grizzly statistics and moves on to research about gun-related mental health issues and the social environments that breed violence makes good sense. Recanting the depressing history of how our society got to this place, in which guns outnumber people, should be part of the undergraduate curriculum.

Addressing the specifics of gun safety and suicide prevention in general with families and individuals would be more appropriate during clinical specialty training. 

How big a chunk of the curriculum should be committed to gun violence and its fallout? Some of the call for change seems to be suggesting a semester-long course. However, we must accept the reality that instructional time in medical school is a finite asset. Although gunshots are the leading cause of death in children, how effective will even the most cleverly crafted curriculum be in moving the needle on the embarrassing data?

Given what is known about the problem, a day, or at most a week would be sufficient in class time. This could include personal presentations by victims or family members. I’m sure there are some who would see that as insufficient. But I see it as realistic. For the large urban schools, observing an evening shift in the trauma unit of an ER could be a potent addition.

Beyond this, a commitment by the school to host seminars and workshops devoted to gun violence could be an important component. It might also be helpful for a school or training program to promote the habit of whenever an instructor is introducing a potentially fatal disease to the students for the first time, he or she would begin with “To put this in perspective, you should remember that xxx thousand children die of gunshot wounds every year.” 

Unfortunately, like obesity, gun-related deaths and injuries are the result of our society’s failure to muster the political will to act in our best interest as a nation. The medical community is left to clean up the collateral damage. There is always more that we could do, but we must be thoughtful in how we invest our energies in the effort.

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.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected]. 

For the third straight year, firearms killed more children and teens than any other cause, including motor vehicle crashes and cancer. The population-wide toll taken by guns is equally as discouraging. Finally, this elephant in the room is getting some attention from the medical community, but the voices asking for change have most recently been coming from medical students who feel that gun violence deserves to be given a larger role in their education. It’s unclear why this plea is coming from the younger end of the medical community. It may be that, unlike most of their older instructors, these 18- to 25-year-olds have grown up under the growing threat of school shootings and become uncomfortably accustomed to active shooter drills.

Should We Look to Medical School for Answers?

There is no question that compared with the rest of this country the medical community needs to take gun violence more seriously. But, does the medical community need to take gun violence more seriously than the rest of the population? What should our response look like? To answer those questions we need to take several steps back to view the bigger picture.

Is the medical community more responsible for this current situation than any other segment of the population? Do physicians bear any more culpability than publishers who sell gun-related magazines? Since its inception pediatrics has taken on the role of advocate for children and their health and well-being. But, is there more we can and should do other than turn up the volume on our advocacy? 

While still taking the longer view, let’s ask ourselves what the role of medical school should be. Not just with respect to gun violence but in producing physicians and healthcare providers. We are approaching a crisis in primary care as it loses appeal with physicians at both ends of the age continuum. It could be because it pays poorly — certainly in relation to the cost of medical school — or because the awareness that if done well primary care requires a commitment that is difficult to square with many individuals’ lifestyle expectations. 

Is the traditional medical school the right place to be training primary care providers? Medical school is currently aimed at broad and deep exposure. The student will be exposed to the all the diseases to which he or she might be seeing anywhere in the world and at the same time will have learned the mechanisms down to the cellular level that lies behind that pathology. Does a primary care pediatrician practicing in a small city or suburbia need that depth of training? He or she might benefit from some breadth. But maybe it should be focused on socioeconomic and geographic population the doctor is likely to see. This is particularly true for gun-related deaths.

Returning our attention to gun violence and its relation to healthcare, let’s ask ourselves what role the traditional medical school should play. Should it be a breeding ground for gun control advocates? When physicians speak people tend to listen but our effectiveness on issues such as immunizations and gun control has not been what many have hoped for. The supply of guns available to the public in this country is staggering and certainly contributes to gun-related injuries and death. However, I’m afraid that making a significant dent in that supply, given our political history and current climate, is an issue whose ship has sailed.

On the other hand, as gun advocates are often quoted as saying, “it’s not guns that kill, it’s people.” We don’t need to go into to the fallacy of this argument, but it gives us a starting point from which a medical school might focus its efforts on addressing the fallout from gun violence. A curriculum that begins with a presentation of the grizzly statistics and moves on to research about gun-related mental health issues and the social environments that breed violence makes good sense. Recanting the depressing history of how our society got to this place, in which guns outnumber people, should be part of the undergraduate curriculum.

Addressing the specifics of gun safety and suicide prevention in general with families and individuals would be more appropriate during clinical specialty training. 

How big a chunk of the curriculum should be committed to gun violence and its fallout? Some of the call for change seems to be suggesting a semester-long course. However, we must accept the reality that instructional time in medical school is a finite asset. Although gunshots are the leading cause of death in children, how effective will even the most cleverly crafted curriculum be in moving the needle on the embarrassing data?

Given what is known about the problem, a day, or at most a week would be sufficient in class time. This could include personal presentations by victims or family members. I’m sure there are some who would see that as insufficient. But I see it as realistic. For the large urban schools, observing an evening shift in the trauma unit of an ER could be a potent addition.

Beyond this, a commitment by the school to host seminars and workshops devoted to gun violence could be an important component. It might also be helpful for a school or training program to promote the habit of whenever an instructor is introducing a potentially fatal disease to the students for the first time, he or she would begin with “To put this in perspective, you should remember that xxx thousand children die of gunshot wounds every year.” 

Unfortunately, like obesity, gun-related deaths and injuries are the result of our society’s failure to muster the political will to act in our best interest as a nation. The medical community is left to clean up the collateral damage. There is always more that we could do, but we must be thoughtful in how we invest our energies in the effort.

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.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected]. 

For the third straight year, firearms killed more children and teens than any other cause, including motor vehicle crashes and cancer. The population-wide toll taken by guns is equally as discouraging. Finally, this elephant in the room is getting some attention from the medical community, but the voices asking for change have most recently been coming from medical students who feel that gun violence deserves to be given a larger role in their education. It’s unclear why this plea is coming from the younger end of the medical community. It may be that, unlike most of their older instructors, these 18- to 25-year-olds have grown up under the growing threat of school shootings and become uncomfortably accustomed to active shooter drills.

Should We Look to Medical School for Answers?

There is no question that compared with the rest of this country the medical community needs to take gun violence more seriously. But, does the medical community need to take gun violence more seriously than the rest of the population? What should our response look like? To answer those questions we need to take several steps back to view the bigger picture.

Is the medical community more responsible for this current situation than any other segment of the population? Do physicians bear any more culpability than publishers who sell gun-related magazines? Since its inception pediatrics has taken on the role of advocate for children and their health and well-being. But, is there more we can and should do other than turn up the volume on our advocacy? 

While still taking the longer view, let’s ask ourselves what the role of medical school should be. Not just with respect to gun violence but in producing physicians and healthcare providers. We are approaching a crisis in primary care as it loses appeal with physicians at both ends of the age continuum. It could be because it pays poorly — certainly in relation to the cost of medical school — or because the awareness that if done well primary care requires a commitment that is difficult to square with many individuals’ lifestyle expectations. 

Is the traditional medical school the right place to be training primary care providers? Medical school is currently aimed at broad and deep exposure. The student will be exposed to the all the diseases to which he or she might be seeing anywhere in the world and at the same time will have learned the mechanisms down to the cellular level that lies behind that pathology. Does a primary care pediatrician practicing in a small city or suburbia need that depth of training? He or she might benefit from some breadth. But maybe it should be focused on socioeconomic and geographic population the doctor is likely to see. This is particularly true for gun-related deaths.

Returning our attention to gun violence and its relation to healthcare, let’s ask ourselves what role the traditional medical school should play. Should it be a breeding ground for gun control advocates? When physicians speak people tend to listen but our effectiveness on issues such as immunizations and gun control has not been what many have hoped for. The supply of guns available to the public in this country is staggering and certainly contributes to gun-related injuries and death. However, I’m afraid that making a significant dent in that supply, given our political history and current climate, is an issue whose ship has sailed.

On the other hand, as gun advocates are often quoted as saying, “it’s not guns that kill, it’s people.” We don’t need to go into to the fallacy of this argument, but it gives us a starting point from which a medical school might focus its efforts on addressing the fallout from gun violence. A curriculum that begins with a presentation of the grizzly statistics and moves on to research about gun-related mental health issues and the social environments that breed violence makes good sense. Recanting the depressing history of how our society got to this place, in which guns outnumber people, should be part of the undergraduate curriculum.

Addressing the specifics of gun safety and suicide prevention in general with families and individuals would be more appropriate during clinical specialty training. 

How big a chunk of the curriculum should be committed to gun violence and its fallout? Some of the call for change seems to be suggesting a semester-long course. However, we must accept the reality that instructional time in medical school is a finite asset. Although gunshots are the leading cause of death in children, how effective will even the most cleverly crafted curriculum be in moving the needle on the embarrassing data?

Given what is known about the problem, a day, or at most a week would be sufficient in class time. This could include personal presentations by victims or family members. I’m sure there are some who would see that as insufficient. But I see it as realistic. For the large urban schools, observing an evening shift in the trauma unit of an ER could be a potent addition.

Beyond this, a commitment by the school to host seminars and workshops devoted to gun violence could be an important component. It might also be helpful for a school or training program to promote the habit of whenever an instructor is introducing a potentially fatal disease to the students for the first time, he or she would begin with “To put this in perspective, you should remember that xxx thousand children die of gunshot wounds every year.” 

Unfortunately, like obesity, gun-related deaths and injuries are the result of our society’s failure to muster the political will to act in our best interest as a nation. The medical community is left to clean up the collateral damage. There is always more that we could do, but we must be thoughtful in how we invest our energies in the effort.

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.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected]. 

Recently, a 40-year-old woman took to Facebook to announce that she had died.

Rachel Davies, of Wales, wrote: “If you’re reading this, then it means I’m no longer here. What a life I’ve had, and surprisingly, since cancer entered my life. When I look through my photos, I’ve done and seen so much since cancer, and probably some of my best memories are from this period. In so many ways, I have to thank it for learning how to live fully. What I wish is that everyone can experience the same but without needing cancer. Get out there, experience life fully, and wear that dress!!! I’m so sad to leave my family and friends, I wish I never had to go. I’m so grateful to have had Charlie young so that I’ve watched him grow into the man he is today. I’m unbelievably proud of him. I am thankful I had the opportunity to have Kacey and Jacob in my life. Lastly, I was blessed to meet the love of my life, my husband, and my best friend. I have no regrets, I have had a wonderful life. So to all of you, don’t be sad I’ve gone. Live your life and live it well. Love, Rachel x.”

 

I didn’t know Ms. Davies, but am likely among many who wish I had. In a terrible situation she kept trying.

She had HER2 metastatic breast cancer, which can respond to the drug Enhertu (trastuzumab). Unfortunately, she never had the chance, because it wasn’t available to her in Wales. In the United Kingdom it’s available only in Scotland.

I’m not saying it was a cure. Statistically, it likely would have bought her another 6 months of family time. But that’s still another half year.

I’m not blaming the Welsh NHS, though they made the decision not to cover it because of cost. The jobs of such committees is a thankless one, trying to decide where the limited money goes — vaccines for many children that are proven to lessen morbidity and mortality over the course of a lifetime, or to add 6 months to the lives of comparatively fewer women with HER2 metastatic breast cancer.

I’m not blaming the company that makes Enhertu, though it was the cost that kept her from getting it. Bringing a drug to market, with all the labs and clinical research behind it, ain’t cheap. If the company can’t keep the lights on they’re not going to able to develop future pharmaceuticals to help others, though I do wonder if a better price could have been negotiated. (I’m not trying to justify the salaries of insurance CEOs — don’t even get me started on those.)

Money is always limited, and human suffering is infinite. Every health care organization, public or private, has to face that simple fact. There is no right place to draw the line, so we use the greatest good for the greatest many as our best guess.

In her last post, though, Ms. Davies didn’t dwell on any of this. She reflected on her joys and blessings, and encouraged others to live life fully. Things we should all focus on.

In a world that often seems to have gone mad, it’s good to keep in mind that there is more good than bad out there. 

Thank you, Ms. Davies, for the reminder.

Allan M. Block, MD, has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

Recently, a 40-year-old woman took to Facebook to announce that she had died.

Rachel Davies, of Wales, wrote: “If you’re reading this, then it means I’m no longer here. What a life I’ve had, and surprisingly, since cancer entered my life. When I look through my photos, I’ve done and seen so much since cancer, and probably some of my best memories are from this period. In so many ways, I have to thank it for learning how to live fully. What I wish is that everyone can experience the same but without needing cancer. Get out there, experience life fully, and wear that dress!!! I’m so sad to leave my family and friends, I wish I never had to go. I’m so grateful to have had Charlie young so that I’ve watched him grow into the man he is today. I’m unbelievably proud of him. I am thankful I had the opportunity to have Kacey and Jacob in my life. Lastly, I was blessed to meet the love of my life, my husband, and my best friend. I have no regrets, I have had a wonderful life. So to all of you, don’t be sad I’ve gone. Live your life and live it well. Love, Rachel x.”

 

I didn’t know Ms. Davies, but am likely among many who wish I had. In a terrible situation she kept trying.

She had HER2 metastatic breast cancer, which can respond to the drug Enhertu (trastuzumab). Unfortunately, she never had the chance, because it wasn’t available to her in Wales. In the United Kingdom it’s available only in Scotland.

I’m not saying it was a cure. Statistically, it likely would have bought her another 6 months of family time. But that’s still another half year.

I’m not blaming the Welsh NHS, though they made the decision not to cover it because of cost. The jobs of such committees is a thankless one, trying to decide where the limited money goes — vaccines for many children that are proven to lessen morbidity and mortality over the course of a lifetime, or to add 6 months to the lives of comparatively fewer women with HER2 metastatic breast cancer.

I’m not blaming the company that makes Enhertu, though it was the cost that kept her from getting it. Bringing a drug to market, with all the labs and clinical research behind it, ain’t cheap. If the company can’t keep the lights on they’re not going to able to develop future pharmaceuticals to help others, though I do wonder if a better price could have been negotiated. (I’m not trying to justify the salaries of insurance CEOs — don’t even get me started on those.)

Money is always limited, and human suffering is infinite. Every health care organization, public or private, has to face that simple fact. There is no right place to draw the line, so we use the greatest good for the greatest many as our best guess.

In her last post, though, Ms. Davies didn’t dwell on any of this. She reflected on her joys and blessings, and encouraged others to live life fully. Things we should all focus on.

In a world that often seems to have gone mad, it’s good to keep in mind that there is more good than bad out there. 

Thank you, Ms. Davies, for the reminder.

Allan M. Block, MD, has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

Recently, a 40-year-old woman took to Facebook to announce that she had died.

Rachel Davies, of Wales, wrote: “If you’re reading this, then it means I’m no longer here. What a life I’ve had, and surprisingly, since cancer entered my life. When I look through my photos, I’ve done and seen so much since cancer, and probably some of my best memories are from this period. In so many ways, I have to thank it for learning how to live fully. What I wish is that everyone can experience the same but without needing cancer. Get out there, experience life fully, and wear that dress!!! I’m so sad to leave my family and friends, I wish I never had to go. I’m so grateful to have had Charlie young so that I’ve watched him grow into the man he is today. I’m unbelievably proud of him. I am thankful I had the opportunity to have Kacey and Jacob in my life. Lastly, I was blessed to meet the love of my life, my husband, and my best friend. I have no regrets, I have had a wonderful life. So to all of you, don’t be sad I’ve gone. Live your life and live it well. Love, Rachel x.”

 

I didn’t know Ms. Davies, but am likely among many who wish I had. In a terrible situation she kept trying.

She had HER2 metastatic breast cancer, which can respond to the drug Enhertu (trastuzumab). Unfortunately, she never had the chance, because it wasn’t available to her in Wales. In the United Kingdom it’s available only in Scotland.

I’m not saying it was a cure. Statistically, it likely would have bought her another 6 months of family time. But that’s still another half year.

I’m not blaming the Welsh NHS, though they made the decision not to cover it because of cost. The jobs of such committees is a thankless one, trying to decide where the limited money goes — vaccines for many children that are proven to lessen morbidity and mortality over the course of a lifetime, or to add 6 months to the lives of comparatively fewer women with HER2 metastatic breast cancer.

I’m not blaming the company that makes Enhertu, though it was the cost that kept her from getting it. Bringing a drug to market, with all the labs and clinical research behind it, ain’t cheap. If the company can’t keep the lights on they’re not going to able to develop future pharmaceuticals to help others, though I do wonder if a better price could have been negotiated. (I’m not trying to justify the salaries of insurance CEOs — don’t even get me started on those.)

Money is always limited, and human suffering is infinite. Every health care organization, public or private, has to face that simple fact. There is no right place to draw the line, so we use the greatest good for the greatest many as our best guess.

In her last post, though, Ms. Davies didn’t dwell on any of this. She reflected on her joys and blessings, and encouraged others to live life fully. Things we should all focus on.

In a world that often seems to have gone mad, it’s good to keep in mind that there is more good than bad out there. 

Thank you, Ms. Davies, for the reminder.

Allan M. Block, MD, has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Arizona.

Cutaneous melanoma is a type of skin cancer typically associated with significant ultraviolet radiation exposure. Melanoma arises from melanocytes, cells found within the lower portion of the epidermis that make the pigment melanin.

While much less common than squamous cell carcinoma or basal cell carcinoma, melanoma is responsible for most deaths from skin cancer. In 2024, there will be more than 100,000 new cases of melanoma and over 8,000 melanoma-related deaths.¹ If localized at the time of diagnosis, survival rates are excellent. Cutaneous melanomas are more common in those with fair complexions or who have had long periods of exposure to natural or artificial sunlight.

Melanoma can also occur in mucous membranes. Mucosal melanoma is much less common than cutaneous melanoma and accounts for only a very small percentage of all new melanoma diagnoses. Unlike their cutaneous counterparts, risk factors for mucosal melanomas have yet to be identified. Although there is some disagreement on whether vulvar melanomas represent cutaneous or mucous melanomas, vulvovaginal melanomas have historically been considered to be mucosal melanomas.

Vulvovaginal melanomas are characterized by a high mortality rate, diagnostic challenges, and lack of awareness, making early detection and intervention crucial to improving patient outcomes. The 5-year overall survival rate for vulvar melanoma is 36% and for vaginal melanoma ranges between 5% and 25%.² Survival rates for vulvovaginal melanomas are lower than for other types of vulvar cancers (72%) or for cutaneous melanomas (72%-81%).²

Racial disparities in survival rates for mucosal and cutaneous melanomas were highlighted in a retrospective study using the Surveillance Epidemiology and End Results (SEER) database. Although the number of Black patients included was small, the median overall survival in that population was less than that in non-Black patients with vulvovaginal melanoma (16 vs. 39 months). Similar findings were noted in Black patients with cutaneous melanoma, compared with non-Black patients (median overall survival, 124 vs 319 months).³

One of the most significant obstacles in the diagnosis of vulvar and vaginal melanoma is its rarity. Both patients and clinicians alike may fail to recognize early warning signs. In a world where skin cancer is heavily publicized, melanoma in the genital area is not as frequently discussed or understood. Postmenopausal patients may have less regular gynecologic care, and unless they present with specific symptoms prompting an exam, melanomas can grow undetected, progressing to more advanced stages before they are discovered.

The median age of patients diagnosed with vulvar and vaginal melanomas is 67-68.^4,5 Symptoms can be subtle and nonspecific. Women with vulvar melanoma may experience symptoms that are similar to other vulvar cancers including pruritus, irritation, pain, bleeding, or a new or growing mass. While vaginal melanoma can be asymptomatic, patients frequently present with vaginal bleeding, discharge, and/or pain (including dyspareunia).

Vulvovaginal melanomas may present differently than cutaneous melanomas. Vulvar melanomas are often pigmented and frequently present as ulcerated lesions. In some cases, though, they appear amelanotic (lacking pigment), making them even harder to identify. The ABCDEs of skin cancer (asymmetry, border, color, diameter, evolving) should be applied to these lesions. Change in the size, shape, or pigment of preexisting melanosis (areas of hyperpigmentation caused by increased melanin), should raise concern for possible malignant transformation. 

Most vaginal melanomas occur within the distal third of the vagina, frequently along the anterior vaginal wall.⁶ They can be polypoid or nodular in appearance and may be ulcerated. While biopsy of any suspicious, enlarging/changing, or symptomatic lesion should be performed, it may be prudent to pause prior to biopsy of a vaginal lesion depending on its appearance. Although rare, gestational trophoblastic neoplasia (GTN) can present with vaginal metastases, and these lesions are frequently very vascular and pose a high bleeding risk if biopsied. They may look dark blue or black. If there is any concern for metastatic GTN on vaginal exam, a beta-hCG level should be obtained prior to biopsy.

Treatment of vulvovaginal melanoma may include surgical excision, systemic therapy, radiation therapy, or a combination of treatments. There is growing use of immunotherapy that mirrors cutaneous melanoma therapy.

Vulvar and vaginal melanoma represent a rare yet serious health issue for women and their impact on public health should not be underestimated. Vulvovaginal melanoma often goes unrecognized until it has reached an advanced stage. Increased awareness about these rare forms of melanoma among both patients and healthcare professionals is vital to improve early detection and treatment outcomes. With greater attention to this disease, we can strive for better diagnostic methods, more effective treatments, and ultimately, a reduction in mortality rates associated with vulvar and vaginal melanoma.

Dr. Tucker is assistant professor of gynecologic oncology at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She has no conflicts of interest.

References

1. National Cancer Institute. Cancer Stat Facts: Melanoma of the skin. 2024 Dec 2. Available from: https://seer.cancer.gov/statfacts/html/melan.html.

2. Piura B. Lancet Oncol. 2008 Oct;9(10):973-81. .

3. Mert I et al. Int J Gynecol Cancer. 2013;23(6):1118-25.

4. Wang D et al. Am J Cancer Res. 2020 Dec 1;10(12):4017-37.

5. Albert A et al. J Gynecol Oncol. 2020 Sep;31(5):e66.

Cutaneous melanoma is a type of skin cancer typically associated with significant ultraviolet radiation exposure. Melanoma arises from melanocytes, cells found within the lower portion of the epidermis that make the pigment melanin.

While much less common than squamous cell carcinoma or basal cell carcinoma, melanoma is responsible for most deaths from skin cancer. In 2024, there will be more than 100,000 new cases of melanoma and over 8,000 melanoma-related deaths.¹ If localized at the time of diagnosis, survival rates are excellent. Cutaneous melanomas are more common in those with fair complexions or who have had long periods of exposure to natural or artificial sunlight.

Melanoma can also occur in mucous membranes. Mucosal melanoma is much less common than cutaneous melanoma and accounts for only a very small percentage of all new melanoma diagnoses. Unlike their cutaneous counterparts, risk factors for mucosal melanomas have yet to be identified. Although there is some disagreement on whether vulvar melanomas represent cutaneous or mucous melanomas, vulvovaginal melanomas have historically been considered to be mucosal melanomas.

Vulvovaginal melanomas are characterized by a high mortality rate, diagnostic challenges, and lack of awareness, making early detection and intervention crucial to improving patient outcomes. The 5-year overall survival rate for vulvar melanoma is 36% and for vaginal melanoma ranges between 5% and 25%.² Survival rates for vulvovaginal melanomas are lower than for other types of vulvar cancers (72%) or for cutaneous melanomas (72%-81%).²

Racial disparities in survival rates for mucosal and cutaneous melanomas were highlighted in a retrospective study using the Surveillance Epidemiology and End Results (SEER) database. Although the number of Black patients included was small, the median overall survival in that population was less than that in non-Black patients with vulvovaginal melanoma (16 vs. 39 months). Similar findings were noted in Black patients with cutaneous melanoma, compared with non-Black patients (median overall survival, 124 vs 319 months).³

One of the most significant obstacles in the diagnosis of vulvar and vaginal melanoma is its rarity. Both patients and clinicians alike may fail to recognize early warning signs. In a world where skin cancer is heavily publicized, melanoma in the genital area is not as frequently discussed or understood. Postmenopausal patients may have less regular gynecologic care, and unless they present with specific symptoms prompting an exam, melanomas can grow undetected, progressing to more advanced stages before they are discovered.

The median age of patients diagnosed with vulvar and vaginal melanomas is 67-68.^4,5 Symptoms can be subtle and nonspecific. Women with vulvar melanoma may experience symptoms that are similar to other vulvar cancers including pruritus, irritation, pain, bleeding, or a new or growing mass. While vaginal melanoma can be asymptomatic, patients frequently present with vaginal bleeding, discharge, and/or pain (including dyspareunia).

Vulvovaginal melanomas may present differently than cutaneous melanomas. Vulvar melanomas are often pigmented and frequently present as ulcerated lesions. In some cases, though, they appear amelanotic (lacking pigment), making them even harder to identify. The ABCDEs of skin cancer (asymmetry, border, color, diameter, evolving) should be applied to these lesions. Change in the size, shape, or pigment of preexisting melanosis (areas of hyperpigmentation caused by increased melanin), should raise concern for possible malignant transformation. 

Most vaginal melanomas occur within the distal third of the vagina, frequently along the anterior vaginal wall.⁶ They can be polypoid or nodular in appearance and may be ulcerated. While biopsy of any suspicious, enlarging/changing, or symptomatic lesion should be performed, it may be prudent to pause prior to biopsy of a vaginal lesion depending on its appearance. Although rare, gestational trophoblastic neoplasia (GTN) can present with vaginal metastases, and these lesions are frequently very vascular and pose a high bleeding risk if biopsied. They may look dark blue or black. If there is any concern for metastatic GTN on vaginal exam, a beta-hCG level should be obtained prior to biopsy.

Treatment of vulvovaginal melanoma may include surgical excision, systemic therapy, radiation therapy, or a combination of treatments. There is growing use of immunotherapy that mirrors cutaneous melanoma therapy.

Vulvar and vaginal melanoma represent a rare yet serious health issue for women and their impact on public health should not be underestimated. Vulvovaginal melanoma often goes unrecognized until it has reached an advanced stage. Increased awareness about these rare forms of melanoma among both patients and healthcare professionals is vital to improve early detection and treatment outcomes. With greater attention to this disease, we can strive for better diagnostic methods, more effective treatments, and ultimately, a reduction in mortality rates associated with vulvar and vaginal melanoma.

Dr. Tucker is assistant professor of gynecologic oncology at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She has no conflicts of interest.

References

1. National Cancer Institute. Cancer Stat Facts: Melanoma of the skin. 2024 Dec 2. Available from: https://seer.cancer.gov/statfacts/html/melan.html.

2. Piura B. Lancet Oncol. 2008 Oct;9(10):973-81. .

3. Mert I et al. Int J Gynecol Cancer. 2013;23(6):1118-25.

4. Wang D et al. Am J Cancer Res. 2020 Dec 1;10(12):4017-37.

5. Albert A et al. J Gynecol Oncol. 2020 Sep;31(5):e66.

Cutaneous melanoma is a type of skin cancer typically associated with significant ultraviolet radiation exposure. Melanoma arises from melanocytes, cells found within the lower portion of the epidermis that make the pigment melanin.

While much less common than squamous cell carcinoma or basal cell carcinoma, melanoma is responsible for most deaths from skin cancer. In 2024, there will be more than 100,000 new cases of melanoma and over 8,000 melanoma-related deaths.¹ If localized at the time of diagnosis, survival rates are excellent. Cutaneous melanomas are more common in those with fair complexions or who have had long periods of exposure to natural or artificial sunlight.

Melanoma can also occur in mucous membranes. Mucosal melanoma is much less common than cutaneous melanoma and accounts for only a very small percentage of all new melanoma diagnoses. Unlike their cutaneous counterparts, risk factors for mucosal melanomas have yet to be identified. Although there is some disagreement on whether vulvar melanomas represent cutaneous or mucous melanomas, vulvovaginal melanomas have historically been considered to be mucosal melanomas.

Vulvovaginal melanomas are characterized by a high mortality rate, diagnostic challenges, and lack of awareness, making early detection and intervention crucial to improving patient outcomes. The 5-year overall survival rate for vulvar melanoma is 36% and for vaginal melanoma ranges between 5% and 25%.² Survival rates for vulvovaginal melanomas are lower than for other types of vulvar cancers (72%) or for cutaneous melanomas (72%-81%).²

Racial disparities in survival rates for mucosal and cutaneous melanomas were highlighted in a retrospective study using the Surveillance Epidemiology and End Results (SEER) database. Although the number of Black patients included was small, the median overall survival in that population was less than that in non-Black patients with vulvovaginal melanoma (16 vs. 39 months). Similar findings were noted in Black patients with cutaneous melanoma, compared with non-Black patients (median overall survival, 124 vs 319 months).³

One of the most significant obstacles in the diagnosis of vulvar and vaginal melanoma is its rarity. Both patients and clinicians alike may fail to recognize early warning signs. In a world where skin cancer is heavily publicized, melanoma in the genital area is not as frequently discussed or understood. Postmenopausal patients may have less regular gynecologic care, and unless they present with specific symptoms prompting an exam, melanomas can grow undetected, progressing to more advanced stages before they are discovered.

The median age of patients diagnosed with vulvar and vaginal melanomas is 67-68.^4,5 Symptoms can be subtle and nonspecific. Women with vulvar melanoma may experience symptoms that are similar to other vulvar cancers including pruritus, irritation, pain, bleeding, or a new or growing mass. While vaginal melanoma can be asymptomatic, patients frequently present with vaginal bleeding, discharge, and/or pain (including dyspareunia).

Vulvovaginal melanomas may present differently than cutaneous melanomas. Vulvar melanomas are often pigmented and frequently present as ulcerated lesions. In some cases, though, they appear amelanotic (lacking pigment), making them even harder to identify. The ABCDEs of skin cancer (asymmetry, border, color, diameter, evolving) should be applied to these lesions. Change in the size, shape, or pigment of preexisting melanosis (areas of hyperpigmentation caused by increased melanin), should raise concern for possible malignant transformation. 

Most vaginal melanomas occur within the distal third of the vagina, frequently along the anterior vaginal wall.⁶ They can be polypoid or nodular in appearance and may be ulcerated. While biopsy of any suspicious, enlarging/changing, or symptomatic lesion should be performed, it may be prudent to pause prior to biopsy of a vaginal lesion depending on its appearance. Although rare, gestational trophoblastic neoplasia (GTN) can present with vaginal metastases, and these lesions are frequently very vascular and pose a high bleeding risk if biopsied. They may look dark blue or black. If there is any concern for metastatic GTN on vaginal exam, a beta-hCG level should be obtained prior to biopsy.

Treatment of vulvovaginal melanoma may include surgical excision, systemic therapy, radiation therapy, or a combination of treatments. There is growing use of immunotherapy that mirrors cutaneous melanoma therapy.

Vulvar and vaginal melanoma represent a rare yet serious health issue for women and their impact on public health should not be underestimated. Vulvovaginal melanoma often goes unrecognized until it has reached an advanced stage. Increased awareness about these rare forms of melanoma among both patients and healthcare professionals is vital to improve early detection and treatment outcomes. With greater attention to this disease, we can strive for better diagnostic methods, more effective treatments, and ultimately, a reduction in mortality rates associated with vulvar and vaginal melanoma.

Dr. Tucker is assistant professor of gynecologic oncology at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She has no conflicts of interest.

References

1. National Cancer Institute. Cancer Stat Facts: Melanoma of the skin. 2024 Dec 2. Available from: https://seer.cancer.gov/statfacts/html/melan.html.

2. Piura B. Lancet Oncol. 2008 Oct;9(10):973-81. .

3. Mert I et al. Int J Gynecol Cancer. 2013;23(6):1118-25.

4. Wang D et al. Am J Cancer Res. 2020 Dec 1;10(12):4017-37.

5. Albert A et al. J Gynecol Oncol. 2020 Sep;31(5):e66.

Hatice became pregnant while working as a medical resident, and her career took a noticeable hit. Her training was downgraded, and her job applications went unanswered. This news organization spoke with her about her experiences and the disadvantages faced by young female doctors with children. 

Hatice, can you tell us about your career path?

I initially started my clinical year at a hospital in Cologne, Germany. Then, 8 months in, I got pregnant with my first child during the first COVID-19 wave. After my maternity leave, I returned to the clinic, and that’s when the problems began.

Where did the issues arise?

Suddenly, I wasn’t allowed into the operating rooms (ORs) and was instead sent to the outpatient clinic. I had to fight for every OR slot until, eventually, I said, “This can’t go on. I want to stay in the hospital and gain my surgical experience, but not if I have to keep struggling for it.”

So, initially, it was about wanting to improve the quality of your ongoing training, as they gave you no path forward for further development? And you attribute this to your maternity leave.

It wasn’t just my perception — I was told as much directly. I returned from maternity leave and was told to work in outpatients and cover shifts. I went to my supervisor and explained that I was unhappy with this. We have an OR log, and I wanted to complete my required cases. He replied, “Well, that’s your fault for getting pregnant right away.” 

In the Cologne/Düsseldorf/Bonn area, there is no shortage of doctors in training. This means that as soon as I leave, there will be new recruits. So my boss actually said to me at the time, “If you’re gone, you’re gone, then the next candidate will come along.”

 

Did you return to work part-time after your maternity leave, or full-time?

I returned full-time and took on all my usual duties. Fortunately, my husband takes on a lot at home. He spent a significant time on parental leave and has often been the one to care for our child when they’re sick. So, if you didn’t know, you wouldn’t necessarily realize at work that I have a child.

What happened next?

I discussed the situation with the senior physician responsible for the OR assignments, but she told me not to worry, as I would eventually get the required signature at the end of my training. But that wasn’t my issue — I wanted the professional training. Feeling stuck, I decided to look for other positions.

Did you apply elsewhere to improve your situation?

Yes, but most of my applications went unanswered, which I didn’t understand. When I followed up, I actually received verbal replies from three hospitals, stating, “We don’t hire women with children.”

You’ve shared your experiences publicly on social media. How has the response been? Have other female doctors had similar experiences?

I think the problem of discrimination against women with children is still taboo. You’d think, with the shortage of doctors, that jobs would be available. But I’ve heard from former classmates who now have children that they face similar career obstacles, especially in fields such as internal medicine, where fulfilling rotations is challenging owing to scheduling bias.

This raises the question of adapting working conditions. In your case, it seems that a change in employer attitudes is also needed. What’s your perspective?

It varies depending on the region. I’ve applied across Germany and found that areas outside major cities such as Cologne, Düsseldorf, and Frankfurt tend to be better. In urban centers with a large applicant pool, the atmosphere is different. In smaller areas, finding a job is easier, especially if you’re fluent in German and experienced.

Do you believe that changing the mindset of employers regarding female staff with children could happen with a generational shift?

Honestly, I doubt it. It’s not just an issue at management level — it’s also present among residents. When someone takes leave, colleagues have to cover, which leads to resentment. Yet many female residents will eventually have children themselves. And it’s often overlooked that many men now share childcare responsibilities or take parental leave. Improving staffing levels would help alleviate these pressures.

Returning to structural issues, how is your situation now — can you continue your training?

I’ve since changed positions and am very happy. I didn’t expect such a positive reception with a child in tow.

Lastly, what changes do you think are needed? Is it enough to speak out about such experiences, or are further solutions necessary?

It’s good that topics such as burnout are openly discussed now. With children, there’s a risk for burnout, as you strive to meet all expectations to avoid career setbacks. But there also needs to be an acceptance that women who are hired may become pregnant and may have more than one child. I’m hopeful that over time, this will become normalized, especially as medicine becomes a more female-dominated field.

Is there anything else you’d like to share?

I wish there were more solidarity among women. It’s disheartening to see competition and infighting. More mutual support among women would make a huge difference.

Thank you, Hatice, and best of luck in your career.

Hatice, who prefers not to disclose her last name for privacy, is a fourth-year ENT specialist in training and shares her journey as a young doctor on Instagram under the name dein.hno.arzt.

This article was translated from Coliquio using several editorial tools, including AI, as part of the process. Human editors reviewed this content before publication.

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

Hatice became pregnant while working as a medical resident, and her career took a noticeable hit. Her training was downgraded, and her job applications went unanswered. This news organization spoke with her about her experiences and the disadvantages faced by young female doctors with children. 

Hatice, can you tell us about your career path?

I initially started my clinical year at a hospital in Cologne, Germany. Then, 8 months in, I got pregnant with my first child during the first COVID-19 wave. After my maternity leave, I returned to the clinic, and that’s when the problems began.

Where did the issues arise?

Suddenly, I wasn’t allowed into the operating rooms (ORs) and was instead sent to the outpatient clinic. I had to fight for every OR slot until, eventually, I said, “This can’t go on. I want to stay in the hospital and gain my surgical experience, but not if I have to keep struggling for it.”

So, initially, it was about wanting to improve the quality of your ongoing training, as they gave you no path forward for further development? And you attribute this to your maternity leave.

It wasn’t just my perception — I was told as much directly. I returned from maternity leave and was told to work in outpatients and cover shifts. I went to my supervisor and explained that I was unhappy with this. We have an OR log, and I wanted to complete my required cases. He replied, “Well, that’s your fault for getting pregnant right away.” 

In the Cologne/Düsseldorf/Bonn area, there is no shortage of doctors in training. This means that as soon as I leave, there will be new recruits. So my boss actually said to me at the time, “If you’re gone, you’re gone, then the next candidate will come along.”

 

Did you return to work part-time after your maternity leave, or full-time?

I returned full-time and took on all my usual duties. Fortunately, my husband takes on a lot at home. He spent a significant time on parental leave and has often been the one to care for our child when they’re sick. So, if you didn’t know, you wouldn’t necessarily realize at work that I have a child.

What happened next?

I discussed the situation with the senior physician responsible for the OR assignments, but she told me not to worry, as I would eventually get the required signature at the end of my training. But that wasn’t my issue — I wanted the professional training. Feeling stuck, I decided to look for other positions.

Did you apply elsewhere to improve your situation?

Yes, but most of my applications went unanswered, which I didn’t understand. When I followed up, I actually received verbal replies from three hospitals, stating, “We don’t hire women with children.”

You’ve shared your experiences publicly on social media. How has the response been? Have other female doctors had similar experiences?

I think the problem of discrimination against women with children is still taboo. You’d think, with the shortage of doctors, that jobs would be available. But I’ve heard from former classmates who now have children that they face similar career obstacles, especially in fields such as internal medicine, where fulfilling rotations is challenging owing to scheduling bias.

This raises the question of adapting working conditions. In your case, it seems that a change in employer attitudes is also needed. What’s your perspective?

It varies depending on the region. I’ve applied across Germany and found that areas outside major cities such as Cologne, Düsseldorf, and Frankfurt tend to be better. In urban centers with a large applicant pool, the atmosphere is different. In smaller areas, finding a job is easier, especially if you’re fluent in German and experienced.

Do you believe that changing the mindset of employers regarding female staff with children could happen with a generational shift?

Honestly, I doubt it. It’s not just an issue at management level — it’s also present among residents. When someone takes leave, colleagues have to cover, which leads to resentment. Yet many female residents will eventually have children themselves. And it’s often overlooked that many men now share childcare responsibilities or take parental leave. Improving staffing levels would help alleviate these pressures.

Returning to structural issues, how is your situation now — can you continue your training?

I’ve since changed positions and am very happy. I didn’t expect such a positive reception with a child in tow.

Lastly, what changes do you think are needed? Is it enough to speak out about such experiences, or are further solutions necessary?

It’s good that topics such as burnout are openly discussed now. With children, there’s a risk for burnout, as you strive to meet all expectations to avoid career setbacks. But there also needs to be an acceptance that women who are hired may become pregnant and may have more than one child. I’m hopeful that over time, this will become normalized, especially as medicine becomes a more female-dominated field.

Is there anything else you’d like to share?

I wish there were more solidarity among women. It’s disheartening to see competition and infighting. More mutual support among women would make a huge difference.

Thank you, Hatice, and best of luck in your career.

Hatice, who prefers not to disclose her last name for privacy, is a fourth-year ENT specialist in training and shares her journey as a young doctor on Instagram under the name dein.hno.arzt.

This article was translated from Coliquio using several editorial tools, including AI, as part of the process. Human editors reviewed this content before publication.

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

Hatice became pregnant while working as a medical resident, and her career took a noticeable hit. Her training was downgraded, and her job applications went unanswered. This news organization spoke with her about her experiences and the disadvantages faced by young female doctors with children. 

Hatice, can you tell us about your career path?

I initially started my clinical year at a hospital in Cologne, Germany. Then, 8 months in, I got pregnant with my first child during the first COVID-19 wave. After my maternity leave, I returned to the clinic, and that’s when the problems began.

Where did the issues arise?

Suddenly, I wasn’t allowed into the operating rooms (ORs) and was instead sent to the outpatient clinic. I had to fight for every OR slot until, eventually, I said, “This can’t go on. I want to stay in the hospital and gain my surgical experience, but not if I have to keep struggling for it.”

So, initially, it was about wanting to improve the quality of your ongoing training, as they gave you no path forward for further development? And you attribute this to your maternity leave.

It wasn’t just my perception — I was told as much directly. I returned from maternity leave and was told to work in outpatients and cover shifts. I went to my supervisor and explained that I was unhappy with this. We have an OR log, and I wanted to complete my required cases. He replied, “Well, that’s your fault for getting pregnant right away.” 

In the Cologne/Düsseldorf/Bonn area, there is no shortage of doctors in training. This means that as soon as I leave, there will be new recruits. So my boss actually said to me at the time, “If you’re gone, you’re gone, then the next candidate will come along.”

 

Did you return to work part-time after your maternity leave, or full-time?

I returned full-time and took on all my usual duties. Fortunately, my husband takes on a lot at home. He spent a significant time on parental leave and has often been the one to care for our child when they’re sick. So, if you didn’t know, you wouldn’t necessarily realize at work that I have a child.

What happened next?

I discussed the situation with the senior physician responsible for the OR assignments, but she told me not to worry, as I would eventually get the required signature at the end of my training. But that wasn’t my issue — I wanted the professional training. Feeling stuck, I decided to look for other positions.

Did you apply elsewhere to improve your situation?

Yes, but most of my applications went unanswered, which I didn’t understand. When I followed up, I actually received verbal replies from three hospitals, stating, “We don’t hire women with children.”

You’ve shared your experiences publicly on social media. How has the response been? Have other female doctors had similar experiences?

I think the problem of discrimination against women with children is still taboo. You’d think, with the shortage of doctors, that jobs would be available. But I’ve heard from former classmates who now have children that they face similar career obstacles, especially in fields such as internal medicine, where fulfilling rotations is challenging owing to scheduling bias.

This raises the question of adapting working conditions. In your case, it seems that a change in employer attitudes is also needed. What’s your perspective?

It varies depending on the region. I’ve applied across Germany and found that areas outside major cities such as Cologne, Düsseldorf, and Frankfurt tend to be better. In urban centers with a large applicant pool, the atmosphere is different. In smaller areas, finding a job is easier, especially if you’re fluent in German and experienced.

Do you believe that changing the mindset of employers regarding female staff with children could happen with a generational shift?

Honestly, I doubt it. It’s not just an issue at management level — it’s also present among residents. When someone takes leave, colleagues have to cover, which leads to resentment. Yet many female residents will eventually have children themselves. And it’s often overlooked that many men now share childcare responsibilities or take parental leave. Improving staffing levels would help alleviate these pressures.

Returning to structural issues, how is your situation now — can you continue your training?

I’ve since changed positions and am very happy. I didn’t expect such a positive reception with a child in tow.

Lastly, what changes do you think are needed? Is it enough to speak out about such experiences, or are further solutions necessary?

It’s good that topics such as burnout are openly discussed now. With children, there’s a risk for burnout, as you strive to meet all expectations to avoid career setbacks. But there also needs to be an acceptance that women who are hired may become pregnant and may have more than one child. I’m hopeful that over time, this will become normalized, especially as medicine becomes a more female-dominated field.

Is there anything else you’d like to share?

I wish there were more solidarity among women. It’s disheartening to see competition and infighting. More mutual support among women would make a huge difference.

Thank you, Hatice, and best of luck in your career.

Hatice, who prefers not to disclose her last name for privacy, is a fourth-year ENT specialist in training and shares her journey as a young doctor on Instagram under the name dein.hno.arzt.

This article was translated from Coliquio using several editorial tools, including AI, as part of the process. Human editors reviewed this content before publication.

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

During a recent walk with my 6-year-old, he told me he smelled marijuana. His comment speaks to its increased (and more open) use since legalization in our state. The macho, misguided part of my dad psyche was proud of his “street cred” but the thinking part of my brain was concerned. He seemed a little young for a talk about drugs. 

I was able to provide a simple, watered-down list of reasons why he shouldn’t smoke marijuana or anything else. The “drugs are bad” aphorism sufficed for my 6-year-old but wasn’t worthy of an academic pulmonologist.

I retired from the military 2 years ago, so marijuana (I’m using the terms “marijuana” and “cannabis” interchangeably here) knowledge wasn’t required for regular practice. I recall one 60-year-old patient who reported smoking four joints a day for years. He had marked emphysema on CT, severe obstruction on spirometry, and he was functionally limited. Buttressed by scattered reports of acute lung injury caused by dabbing or marijuana vaping, this anecdotal “n of 1” led to a predictably pedantic conclusion: Smoking marijuana is bad for the lungs and preaching cessation is worth my time and effort. 

I now work in an inner-city hospital. My 6-year-old could identify the smell permeating the hallways and clinic rooms. I’ve reverted to counseling cessation using little more than my “drugs are bad” speech. When I came across a recent review in Seminars in Respiratory and Critical Care Medicine, I recognized the opportunity to read and do better. This summary is based heavily on that review.

Spoiler alert: The data aren’t great. By federal law, marijuana has been illegal in the United States since 1970, so neither funding nor recruitment has come easy. There’s lots of observational data that depend on self-report and are confounded by cigarette use. A lack of regulation results in variations in composition and concentration. In summary, though, smoking marijuana is associated with changes to the bronchial tree and respiratory symptoms, similar to those seen with chronic bronchitis. These symptoms improve with cessation. 

The relationship between marijuana and airflow obstruction and lung function is complicated. A mix of contradictory data shows a reduction in the ratio of the forced expiratory volume in the first 1 second to the forced vital capacity (FEV₁/FVC), an increase in FVC, and changes in conductance. 

Biologic plausibility, essential to bolster causality but easy to manufacture, seems intuitive for the airway changes (decreased FEV₁/FVC and conductance). The increase in FVC, explained by either the anti-inflammatory properties of delta-9-tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) or the impact from deep inhalations typical of marijuana use, is more difficult to understand. Regardless, I came away from the review less confident about marijuana’s impact on lung structure and function. 

The Seminars review also explores marijuana’s association with lung cancer, emphysema, and other structural changes seen on CT of the chest. There’s certainly noise here but the data at present are underwhelming. 

This all speaks to the general misconception I’ve had, perhaps shared by others, that the well-defined effects on the lung from tobacco abuse can be extrapolated to marijuana. In the past, I’d even gone so far as to equate a pack-year (smoking one pack of cigarettes per day for a year) to a joint-year (smoking one joint per day for a year), a rather dramatic oversimplification. While both are attempts to quantify exposure, the latter connotes far less information. The content of a joint can vary considerably in ways that the content of cigarettes does not, and there have been no formal studies of the comparative impact on the lung. 

 

Final Thoughts

The nuance here matters for several reasons. Legalization means an increase in use and presumably more open reporting by patients. In a vacuum, it seems reasonable to council cessation to reduce symptoms and because additional harms can be assumed, given what we know about smoke inhalation in general. Will cessation drive patients to an increase in tobacco use where harm is better established? 

Given its mixed effects on lung function, is it worth spending behavior change capital, the most precious of patient commodities, on marijuana counseling? Marijuana has numerous effects outside the lung that haven’t been touched on here. How should those be incorporated into our guidance? Legalization and regulation provide the opportunity to obtain the better data that are sorely needed.

Aaron B. Holley, MD, is a professor of medicine at Uniformed Services University in Bethesda, Maryland, and a pulmonary/sleep and critical care medicine physician at MedStar Washington Hospital Center in Washington, DC. He has disclosed the relevant financial relationships with Metapharm, CHEST College, and WebMD.

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

During a recent walk with my 6-year-old, he told me he smelled marijuana. His comment speaks to its increased (and more open) use since legalization in our state. The macho, misguided part of my dad psyche was proud of his “street cred” but the thinking part of my brain was concerned. He seemed a little young for a talk about drugs. 

I was able to provide a simple, watered-down list of reasons why he shouldn’t smoke marijuana or anything else. The “drugs are bad” aphorism sufficed for my 6-year-old but wasn’t worthy of an academic pulmonologist.

I retired from the military 2 years ago, so marijuana (I’m using the terms “marijuana” and “cannabis” interchangeably here) knowledge wasn’t required for regular practice. I recall one 60-year-old patient who reported smoking four joints a day for years. He had marked emphysema on CT, severe obstruction on spirometry, and he was functionally limited. Buttressed by scattered reports of acute lung injury caused by dabbing or marijuana vaping, this anecdotal “n of 1” led to a predictably pedantic conclusion: Smoking marijuana is bad for the lungs and preaching cessation is worth my time and effort. 

I now work in an inner-city hospital. My 6-year-old could identify the smell permeating the hallways and clinic rooms. I’ve reverted to counseling cessation using little more than my “drugs are bad” speech. When I came across a recent review in Seminars in Respiratory and Critical Care Medicine, I recognized the opportunity to read and do better. This summary is based heavily on that review.

Spoiler alert: The data aren’t great. By federal law, marijuana has been illegal in the United States since 1970, so neither funding nor recruitment has come easy. There’s lots of observational data that depend on self-report and are confounded by cigarette use. A lack of regulation results in variations in composition and concentration. In summary, though, smoking marijuana is associated with changes to the bronchial tree and respiratory symptoms, similar to those seen with chronic bronchitis. These symptoms improve with cessation. 

The relationship between marijuana and airflow obstruction and lung function is complicated. A mix of contradictory data shows a reduction in the ratio of the forced expiratory volume in the first 1 second to the forced vital capacity (FEV₁/FVC), an increase in FVC, and changes in conductance. 

Biologic plausibility, essential to bolster causality but easy to manufacture, seems intuitive for the airway changes (decreased FEV₁/FVC and conductance). The increase in FVC, explained by either the anti-inflammatory properties of delta-9-tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) or the impact from deep inhalations typical of marijuana use, is more difficult to understand. Regardless, I came away from the review less confident about marijuana’s impact on lung structure and function. 

The Seminars review also explores marijuana’s association with lung cancer, emphysema, and other structural changes seen on CT of the chest. There’s certainly noise here but the data at present are underwhelming. 

This all speaks to the general misconception I’ve had, perhaps shared by others, that the well-defined effects on the lung from tobacco abuse can be extrapolated to marijuana. In the past, I’d even gone so far as to equate a pack-year (smoking one pack of cigarettes per day for a year) to a joint-year (smoking one joint per day for a year), a rather dramatic oversimplification. While both are attempts to quantify exposure, the latter connotes far less information. The content of a joint can vary considerably in ways that the content of cigarettes does not, and there have been no formal studies of the comparative impact on the lung. 

 

Final Thoughts

The nuance here matters for several reasons. Legalization means an increase in use and presumably more open reporting by patients. In a vacuum, it seems reasonable to council cessation to reduce symptoms and because additional harms can be assumed, given what we know about smoke inhalation in general. Will cessation drive patients to an increase in tobacco use where harm is better established? 

Given its mixed effects on lung function, is it worth spending behavior change capital, the most precious of patient commodities, on marijuana counseling? Marijuana has numerous effects outside the lung that haven’t been touched on here. How should those be incorporated into our guidance? Legalization and regulation provide the opportunity to obtain the better data that are sorely needed.

Aaron B. Holley, MD, is a professor of medicine at Uniformed Services University in Bethesda, Maryland, and a pulmonary/sleep and critical care medicine physician at MedStar Washington Hospital Center in Washington, DC. He has disclosed the relevant financial relationships with Metapharm, CHEST College, and WebMD.

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

During a recent walk with my 6-year-old, he told me he smelled marijuana. His comment speaks to its increased (and more open) use since legalization in our state. The macho, misguided part of my dad psyche was proud of his “street cred” but the thinking part of my brain was concerned. He seemed a little young for a talk about drugs. 

I was able to provide a simple, watered-down list of reasons why he shouldn’t smoke marijuana or anything else. The “drugs are bad” aphorism sufficed for my 6-year-old but wasn’t worthy of an academic pulmonologist.

I retired from the military 2 years ago, so marijuana (I’m using the terms “marijuana” and “cannabis” interchangeably here) knowledge wasn’t required for regular practice. I recall one 60-year-old patient who reported smoking four joints a day for years. He had marked emphysema on CT, severe obstruction on spirometry, and he was functionally limited. Buttressed by scattered reports of acute lung injury caused by dabbing or marijuana vaping, this anecdotal “n of 1” led to a predictably pedantic conclusion: Smoking marijuana is bad for the lungs and preaching cessation is worth my time and effort. 

I now work in an inner-city hospital. My 6-year-old could identify the smell permeating the hallways and clinic rooms. I’ve reverted to counseling cessation using little more than my “drugs are bad” speech. When I came across a recent review in Seminars in Respiratory and Critical Care Medicine, I recognized the opportunity to read and do better. This summary is based heavily on that review.

Spoiler alert: The data aren’t great. By federal law, marijuana has been illegal in the United States since 1970, so neither funding nor recruitment has come easy. There’s lots of observational data that depend on self-report and are confounded by cigarette use. A lack of regulation results in variations in composition and concentration. In summary, though, smoking marijuana is associated with changes to the bronchial tree and respiratory symptoms, similar to those seen with chronic bronchitis. These symptoms improve with cessation. 

The relationship between marijuana and airflow obstruction and lung function is complicated. A mix of contradictory data shows a reduction in the ratio of the forced expiratory volume in the first 1 second to the forced vital capacity (FEV₁/FVC), an increase in FVC, and changes in conductance. 

Biologic plausibility, essential to bolster causality but easy to manufacture, seems intuitive for the airway changes (decreased FEV₁/FVC and conductance). The increase in FVC, explained by either the anti-inflammatory properties of delta-9-tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) or the impact from deep inhalations typical of marijuana use, is more difficult to understand. Regardless, I came away from the review less confident about marijuana’s impact on lung structure and function. 

The Seminars review also explores marijuana’s association with lung cancer, emphysema, and other structural changes seen on CT of the chest. There’s certainly noise here but the data at present are underwhelming. 

This all speaks to the general misconception I’ve had, perhaps shared by others, that the well-defined effects on the lung from tobacco abuse can be extrapolated to marijuana. In the past, I’d even gone so far as to equate a pack-year (smoking one pack of cigarettes per day for a year) to a joint-year (smoking one joint per day for a year), a rather dramatic oversimplification. While both are attempts to quantify exposure, the latter connotes far less information. The content of a joint can vary considerably in ways that the content of cigarettes does not, and there have been no formal studies of the comparative impact on the lung. 

 

Final Thoughts

The nuance here matters for several reasons. Legalization means an increase in use and presumably more open reporting by patients. In a vacuum, it seems reasonable to council cessation to reduce symptoms and because additional harms can be assumed, given what we know about smoke inhalation in general. Will cessation drive patients to an increase in tobacco use where harm is better established? 

Given its mixed effects on lung function, is it worth spending behavior change capital, the most precious of patient commodities, on marijuana counseling? Marijuana has numerous effects outside the lung that haven’t been touched on here. How should those be incorporated into our guidance? Legalization and regulation provide the opportunity to obtain the better data that are sorely needed.

Aaron B. Holley, MD, is a professor of medicine at Uniformed Services University in Bethesda, Maryland, and a pulmonary/sleep and critical care medicine physician at MedStar Washington Hospital Center in Washington, DC. He has disclosed the relevant financial relationships with Metapharm, CHEST College, and WebMD.

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