Commentary

This transcript has been edited for clarity.

Few diseases have stymied explanation like autism spectrum disorder (ASD). We know that the prevalence has been increasing dramatically, but we aren’t quite sure whether that is because of more screening and awareness or more fundamental changes. We know that much of the risk appears to be genetic, but there may be 1,000 genes involved in the syndrome. We know that certain environmental exposures, like pollution, might increase the risk – perhaps on a susceptible genetic background – but we’re not really sure which exposures are most harmful.

So, the search continues, across all domains of inquiry from cell culture to large epidemiologic analyses. And this week, a new player enters the field, and, as they say, it’s something in the water.

Does exposure to lithium in groundwater cause autism?

We’re talking about this paper, by Zeyan Liew and colleagues, appearing in JAMA Pediatrics.

Using the incredibly robust health data infrastructure in Denmark, the researchers were able to identify 8,842 children born between 2000 and 2013 with ASD and matched each one to five control kids of the same sex and age without autism.

They then mapped the location the mothers of these kids lived while they were pregnant – down to 5 meters resolution, actually – to groundwater lithium levels.

International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health

JAMA Pediatrics

Dr. F. Perry Wilson

U.S. Geological Survey

Global Burden of Disease Collaborative Network

F. Perry Wilson, MD, MSCE, is an associate professor of medicine and director of Yale’s Clinical and Translational Research Accelerator. He has disclosed no relevant financial relationships. His science communication work can be found in the Huffington Post, on NPR, and here on Medscape. He tweets @fperrywilson and his new book, “How Medicine Works and When It Doesn’t”, is available now.

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

This transcript has been edited for clarity.

Few diseases have stymied explanation like autism spectrum disorder (ASD). We know that the prevalence has been increasing dramatically, but we aren’t quite sure whether that is because of more screening and awareness or more fundamental changes. We know that much of the risk appears to be genetic, but there may be 1,000 genes involved in the syndrome. We know that certain environmental exposures, like pollution, might increase the risk – perhaps on a susceptible genetic background – but we’re not really sure which exposures are most harmful.

So, the search continues, across all domains of inquiry from cell culture to large epidemiologic analyses. And this week, a new player enters the field, and, as they say, it’s something in the water.

Does exposure to lithium in groundwater cause autism?

We’re talking about this paper, by Zeyan Liew and colleagues, appearing in JAMA Pediatrics.

Using the incredibly robust health data infrastructure in Denmark, the researchers were able to identify 8,842 children born between 2000 and 2013 with ASD and matched each one to five control kids of the same sex and age without autism.

They then mapped the location the mothers of these kids lived while they were pregnant – down to 5 meters resolution, actually – to groundwater lithium levels.

International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health

JAMA Pediatrics

Dr. F. Perry Wilson

U.S. Geological Survey

Global Burden of Disease Collaborative Network

F. Perry Wilson, MD, MSCE, is an associate professor of medicine and director of Yale’s Clinical and Translational Research Accelerator. He has disclosed no relevant financial relationships. His science communication work can be found in the Huffington Post, on NPR, and here on Medscape. He tweets @fperrywilson and his new book, “How Medicine Works and When It Doesn’t”, is available now.

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

This transcript has been edited for clarity.

Few diseases have stymied explanation like autism spectrum disorder (ASD). We know that the prevalence has been increasing dramatically, but we aren’t quite sure whether that is because of more screening and awareness or more fundamental changes. We know that much of the risk appears to be genetic, but there may be 1,000 genes involved in the syndrome. We know that certain environmental exposures, like pollution, might increase the risk – perhaps on a susceptible genetic background – but we’re not really sure which exposures are most harmful.

So, the search continues, across all domains of inquiry from cell culture to large epidemiologic analyses. And this week, a new player enters the field, and, as they say, it’s something in the water.

Does exposure to lithium in groundwater cause autism?

We’re talking about this paper, by Zeyan Liew and colleagues, appearing in JAMA Pediatrics.

Using the incredibly robust health data infrastructure in Denmark, the researchers were able to identify 8,842 children born between 2000 and 2013 with ASD and matched each one to five control kids of the same sex and age without autism.

They then mapped the location the mothers of these kids lived while they were pregnant – down to 5 meters resolution, actually – to groundwater lithium levels.

International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health

JAMA Pediatrics

Dr. F. Perry Wilson

U.S. Geological Survey

Global Burden of Disease Collaborative Network

F. Perry Wilson, MD, MSCE, is an associate professor of medicine and director of Yale’s Clinical and Translational Research Accelerator. He has disclosed no relevant financial relationships. His science communication work can be found in the Huffington Post, on NPR, and here on Medscape. He tweets @fperrywilson and his new book, “How Medicine Works and When It Doesn’t”, is available now.

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

Psychiatrists practice in a wide array of ways. We approach our work and our patients with beliefs and preconceptions that develop over time. Our training has significant influence, though our own personalities and biases also affect our understanding.

Psychiatrists have philosophical lenses through which they see patients. We can reflect and see some standard archetypes. We are familiar with the reductionistic pharmacologist, the somatic treatment specialist, the psychodynamic ‘guru,’ and the medicolegally paralyzed practitioner. It is without judgment that we lay these out, for our very point is that we have these constituent parts within our own clinical identities. The intensity with which we subscribe to these clinical sensibilities could contribute to a biased orthodoxy.

Orthodoxy can be defined as an accepted theory that stems from an authoritative entity. This is a well-known phenomenon that continues to be visible. For example, one can quickly peruse psychodynamic literature to find one school of thought criticizing another. It is not without some confrontation and even interpersonal rifts that the lineage of psychoanalytic theory has evolved. This has always been of interest to us. A core facet of psychoanalysis is empathy, truly knowing the inner state of a different person. And yet, the very bastions of this clinical sensibility frequently resort to veiled attacks on those in their field who have opposing views. It then begs the question: If even enlightened institutions fail at a nonjudgmental approach toward their colleagues, what hope is there for the rest of us clinicians, mired in the thick of day-to-day clinical practice?

It is our contention that the odds are against us. Even the aforementioned critique of psychoanalytic orthodoxy is just another example of how we humans organize our experience. Even as we write an article in argument against unbridled critique, we find it difficult to do so without engaging in it. For to criticize another is to help shore up our own personal identities. This is especially the case when clinicians deal with issues that we feel strongly about. The human psyche has a need to organize its experience, as “our experience of ourselves is fundamental to how we operate in the world. Our subjective experience is the phenomenology of all that one might be aware of.”¹

In this vein, we would like to cite attribution theory. This is a view of human behavior within social psychology. The Austrian psychologist Fritz Heider, PhD, investigated “the domain of social interactions, wondering how people perceive each other in interaction and especially how they make sense of each other’s behavior.”² Attribution theory suggests that as humans organize our social interactions, we may make two basic assumptions. One is that our own behavior is highly affected by an environment that is beyond our control. The second is that when judging the behavior of others, we are more likely to attribute it to internal traits that they have. A classic example is automobile traffic. When we see someone driving erratically, we are more likely to blame them for being an inherently bad driver. However, if attention is called to our own driving, we are more likely to cite external factors such as rush hour, a bad driver around us, or a faulty vehicle.

We would like to reference one last model of human behavior. It has become customary within the field of neuroscience to view the brain as a predictive organ: “Theories of prediction in perception, action, and learning suggest that the brain serves to reduce the discrepancies between expectation and actual experience, i.e., by reducing the prediction error.”³ Perception itself has recently been described as a controlled hallucination, where the brain makes predictions of what it thinks it is about to see based on past experiences. Visual stimulus ultimately takes time to enter our eyes and be processed in the brain – “predictions would need to preactivate neural representations that would typically be driven by sensory input, before the actual arrival of that input.”⁴ It thus seems to be an inherent method of the brain to anticipate visual and even social events to help human beings sustain themselves.

Having spoken of a psychoanalytic conceptualization of self-organization, the theory of attribution, and research into social neuroscience, we turn our attention back to the central question that this article would like to address. Can we, as clinicians, truly put ourselves into the mindset of our colleagues and appreciate, and even agree with, the philosophies and methodologies of our fellow psychiatrists?

When we find ourselves busy in rote clinical practice, we believe the likelihood of intercollegiate mentalization is low; our ability to relate to our peers becomes strained. We ultimately do not practice in a vacuum. Psychiatrists, even those in a solo private practice, are ultimately part of a community of providers who, more or less, follow some emergent ‘standard of care.’ This can be a vague concept; but one that takes on a concrete form in the minds of certain clinicians and certainly in the setting of a medicolegal court. Yet, the psychiatrists that we know all have very stereotyped ways of practice. And at the heart of it, we all think that we are right.

We can use polypharmacy as an example. Imagine that you have a new patient intake, who tells you that they are transferring care from another psychiatrist. They inform you of their medication regimen. This patient presents on eight or more psychotropics. Many of us may have a visceral reaction at this point and, following the aforementioned attribution theory, we may ask ourselves what ‘quack’ of a doctor would do this. Yet some among us would think that a very competent psychopharmacologist was daring enough to use the full armamentarium of psychopharmacology to help this patient, who must be treatment refractory.

When speaking with such a patient, we would be quick to reflect on our own parsimonious use of medications. We would tell ourselves that we are responsible providers and would be quick to recommend discontinuation of medications. This would help us feel better about ourselves, and would of course assuage the ever-present medicolegal ‘big brother’ in our minds. It is through this very process that we affirm our self-identities. For if this patient’s previous physician was a bad psychiatrist, then we are a good psychiatrist. It is through this process that our clinical selves find confirmation.

We do not mean to reduce the complexities of human behavior to quick stereotypes. However, it is our belief that when confronted with clinical or philosophical disputes with our colleagues, the basic rules of human behavior will attempt to dissolve and override efforts at mentalization, collegiality, or interpersonal sensitivity. For to accept a clinical practice view that is different from ours would be akin to giving up the essence of our clinical identities. It could be compared to the fragmentation process of a vulnerable psyche when confronted with a reality that is at odds with preconceived notions and experiences.

While we may be able to appreciate the nuances and sensibilities of another provider, we believe it would be particularly difficult for most of us to actually attempt to practice in a fashion that is not congruent with our own organizers of experience. Whether or not our practice style is ‘perfect,’ it has worked for us. Social neuroscience and our understanding of the organization of the self would predict that we would hold onto our way of practice with all the mind’s defenses. Externalization, denial, and projection could all be called into action in this battle against existential fragmentation.

Do we seek to portray a clinical world where there is no hope for genuine modeling of clinical sensibilities to other psychiatrists? That is not our intention. Yet it seems that many of the theoretical frameworks that we subscribe to argue against this possibility. We would be hypocritical if we did not here state that our own theoretical frameworks are yet other examples of “organizers of experience.” Attribution theory, intersubjectivity, and social neuroscience are simply our ways of organizing the chaos of perceptions, ideas, and intricacies of human behavior.

If we accept that psychiatrists, like all human beings, are trapped in a subjective experience, then we can be more playful and flexible when interacting with our colleagues. We do not have to be as defensive of our practices and accusatory of others. If we practice daily according to some orthodoxy, then we color our experiences of the patient and of our colleagues’ ways of practice. We automatically start off on the wrong foot. And yet, to give up this orthodoxy would, by definition, be disorganizing and fragmenting to us. For as Nietzsche said, “truth is an illusion without which a certain species could not survive.”⁵

Dr. Khalafian practices full time as a general outpatient psychiatrist. He trained at the University of California, San Diego, for his psychiatric residency and currently works as a telepsychiatrist, serving an outpatient clinic population in northern California. Dr. Badre is a clinical and forensic psychiatrist in San Diego. He holds teaching positions at the University of California, San Diego, and the University of San Diego. He teaches medical education, psychopharmacology, ethics in psychiatry, and correctional care. Dr. Badre can be reached at his website, BadreMD.com. Dr. Badre and Dr. Khalafian have no conflicts of interest.

References

1. Buirski P and Haglund P. Making sense together: The intersubjective approach to psychotherapy. Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson; 2001.

2. Malle BF. Attribution theories: How people make sense of behavior. In Chadee D (ed.), Theories in social psychology. pp. 72-95. Wiley-Blackwell; 2011.

3. Brown EC and Brune M. The role of prediction in social neuroscience. Front Hum Neurosci. 2012 May 24;6:147. doi: 10.3389/fnhum.2012.00147.

4. Blom T et al. Predictions drive neural representations of visual events ahead of incoming sensory information. Proc Natl Acad Sci USA. 2020 Mar 31;117(13):7510-7515. doi: 10.1073/pnas.1917777117.

5. Yalom I. The Gift of Therapy. Harper Perennial; 2002.

Psychiatrists practice in a wide array of ways. We approach our work and our patients with beliefs and preconceptions that develop over time. Our training has significant influence, though our own personalities and biases also affect our understanding.

Psychiatrists have philosophical lenses through which they see patients. We can reflect and see some standard archetypes. We are familiar with the reductionistic pharmacologist, the somatic treatment specialist, the psychodynamic ‘guru,’ and the medicolegally paralyzed practitioner. It is without judgment that we lay these out, for our very point is that we have these constituent parts within our own clinical identities. The intensity with which we subscribe to these clinical sensibilities could contribute to a biased orthodoxy.

Orthodoxy can be defined as an accepted theory that stems from an authoritative entity. This is a well-known phenomenon that continues to be visible. For example, one can quickly peruse psychodynamic literature to find one school of thought criticizing another. It is not without some confrontation and even interpersonal rifts that the lineage of psychoanalytic theory has evolved. This has always been of interest to us. A core facet of psychoanalysis is empathy, truly knowing the inner state of a different person. And yet, the very bastions of this clinical sensibility frequently resort to veiled attacks on those in their field who have opposing views. It then begs the question: If even enlightened institutions fail at a nonjudgmental approach toward their colleagues, what hope is there for the rest of us clinicians, mired in the thick of day-to-day clinical practice?

It is our contention that the odds are against us. Even the aforementioned critique of psychoanalytic orthodoxy is just another example of how we humans organize our experience. Even as we write an article in argument against unbridled critique, we find it difficult to do so without engaging in it. For to criticize another is to help shore up our own personal identities. This is especially the case when clinicians deal with issues that we feel strongly about. The human psyche has a need to organize its experience, as “our experience of ourselves is fundamental to how we operate in the world. Our subjective experience is the phenomenology of all that one might be aware of.”¹

In this vein, we would like to cite attribution theory. This is a view of human behavior within social psychology. The Austrian psychologist Fritz Heider, PhD, investigated “the domain of social interactions, wondering how people perceive each other in interaction and especially how they make sense of each other’s behavior.”² Attribution theory suggests that as humans organize our social interactions, we may make two basic assumptions. One is that our own behavior is highly affected by an environment that is beyond our control. The second is that when judging the behavior of others, we are more likely to attribute it to internal traits that they have. A classic example is automobile traffic. When we see someone driving erratically, we are more likely to blame them for being an inherently bad driver. However, if attention is called to our own driving, we are more likely to cite external factors such as rush hour, a bad driver around us, or a faulty vehicle.

We would like to reference one last model of human behavior. It has become customary within the field of neuroscience to view the brain as a predictive organ: “Theories of prediction in perception, action, and learning suggest that the brain serves to reduce the discrepancies between expectation and actual experience, i.e., by reducing the prediction error.”³ Perception itself has recently been described as a controlled hallucination, where the brain makes predictions of what it thinks it is about to see based on past experiences. Visual stimulus ultimately takes time to enter our eyes and be processed in the brain – “predictions would need to preactivate neural representations that would typically be driven by sensory input, before the actual arrival of that input.”⁴ It thus seems to be an inherent method of the brain to anticipate visual and even social events to help human beings sustain themselves.

Having spoken of a psychoanalytic conceptualization of self-organization, the theory of attribution, and research into social neuroscience, we turn our attention back to the central question that this article would like to address. Can we, as clinicians, truly put ourselves into the mindset of our colleagues and appreciate, and even agree with, the philosophies and methodologies of our fellow psychiatrists?

When we find ourselves busy in rote clinical practice, we believe the likelihood of intercollegiate mentalization is low; our ability to relate to our peers becomes strained. We ultimately do not practice in a vacuum. Psychiatrists, even those in a solo private practice, are ultimately part of a community of providers who, more or less, follow some emergent ‘standard of care.’ This can be a vague concept; but one that takes on a concrete form in the minds of certain clinicians and certainly in the setting of a medicolegal court. Yet, the psychiatrists that we know all have very stereotyped ways of practice. And at the heart of it, we all think that we are right.

We can use polypharmacy as an example. Imagine that you have a new patient intake, who tells you that they are transferring care from another psychiatrist. They inform you of their medication regimen. This patient presents on eight or more psychotropics. Many of us may have a visceral reaction at this point and, following the aforementioned attribution theory, we may ask ourselves what ‘quack’ of a doctor would do this. Yet some among us would think that a very competent psychopharmacologist was daring enough to use the full armamentarium of psychopharmacology to help this patient, who must be treatment refractory.

When speaking with such a patient, we would be quick to reflect on our own parsimonious use of medications. We would tell ourselves that we are responsible providers and would be quick to recommend discontinuation of medications. This would help us feel better about ourselves, and would of course assuage the ever-present medicolegal ‘big brother’ in our minds. It is through this very process that we affirm our self-identities. For if this patient’s previous physician was a bad psychiatrist, then we are a good psychiatrist. It is through this process that our clinical selves find confirmation.

We do not mean to reduce the complexities of human behavior to quick stereotypes. However, it is our belief that when confronted with clinical or philosophical disputes with our colleagues, the basic rules of human behavior will attempt to dissolve and override efforts at mentalization, collegiality, or interpersonal sensitivity. For to accept a clinical practice view that is different from ours would be akin to giving up the essence of our clinical identities. It could be compared to the fragmentation process of a vulnerable psyche when confronted with a reality that is at odds with preconceived notions and experiences.

While we may be able to appreciate the nuances and sensibilities of another provider, we believe it would be particularly difficult for most of us to actually attempt to practice in a fashion that is not congruent with our own organizers of experience. Whether or not our practice style is ‘perfect,’ it has worked for us. Social neuroscience and our understanding of the organization of the self would predict that we would hold onto our way of practice with all the mind’s defenses. Externalization, denial, and projection could all be called into action in this battle against existential fragmentation.

Do we seek to portray a clinical world where there is no hope for genuine modeling of clinical sensibilities to other psychiatrists? That is not our intention. Yet it seems that many of the theoretical frameworks that we subscribe to argue against this possibility. We would be hypocritical if we did not here state that our own theoretical frameworks are yet other examples of “organizers of experience.” Attribution theory, intersubjectivity, and social neuroscience are simply our ways of organizing the chaos of perceptions, ideas, and intricacies of human behavior.

If we accept that psychiatrists, like all human beings, are trapped in a subjective experience, then we can be more playful and flexible when interacting with our colleagues. We do not have to be as defensive of our practices and accusatory of others. If we practice daily according to some orthodoxy, then we color our experiences of the patient and of our colleagues’ ways of practice. We automatically start off on the wrong foot. And yet, to give up this orthodoxy would, by definition, be disorganizing and fragmenting to us. For as Nietzsche said, “truth is an illusion without which a certain species could not survive.”⁵

Dr. Khalafian practices full time as a general outpatient psychiatrist. He trained at the University of California, San Diego, for his psychiatric residency and currently works as a telepsychiatrist, serving an outpatient clinic population in northern California. Dr. Badre is a clinical and forensic psychiatrist in San Diego. He holds teaching positions at the University of California, San Diego, and the University of San Diego. He teaches medical education, psychopharmacology, ethics in psychiatry, and correctional care. Dr. Badre can be reached at his website, BadreMD.com. Dr. Badre and Dr. Khalafian have no conflicts of interest.

References

1. Buirski P and Haglund P. Making sense together: The intersubjective approach to psychotherapy. Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson; 2001.

2. Malle BF. Attribution theories: How people make sense of behavior. In Chadee D (ed.), Theories in social psychology. pp. 72-95. Wiley-Blackwell; 2011.

3. Brown EC and Brune M. The role of prediction in social neuroscience. Front Hum Neurosci. 2012 May 24;6:147. doi: 10.3389/fnhum.2012.00147.

4. Blom T et al. Predictions drive neural representations of visual events ahead of incoming sensory information. Proc Natl Acad Sci USA. 2020 Mar 31;117(13):7510-7515. doi: 10.1073/pnas.1917777117.

5. Yalom I. The Gift of Therapy. Harper Perennial; 2002.

Psychiatrists practice in a wide array of ways. We approach our work and our patients with beliefs and preconceptions that develop over time. Our training has significant influence, though our own personalities and biases also affect our understanding.

Psychiatrists have philosophical lenses through which they see patients. We can reflect and see some standard archetypes. We are familiar with the reductionistic pharmacologist, the somatic treatment specialist, the psychodynamic ‘guru,’ and the medicolegally paralyzed practitioner. It is without judgment that we lay these out, for our very point is that we have these constituent parts within our own clinical identities. The intensity with which we subscribe to these clinical sensibilities could contribute to a biased orthodoxy.

Orthodoxy can be defined as an accepted theory that stems from an authoritative entity. This is a well-known phenomenon that continues to be visible. For example, one can quickly peruse psychodynamic literature to find one school of thought criticizing another. It is not without some confrontation and even interpersonal rifts that the lineage of psychoanalytic theory has evolved. This has always been of interest to us. A core facet of psychoanalysis is empathy, truly knowing the inner state of a different person. And yet, the very bastions of this clinical sensibility frequently resort to veiled attacks on those in their field who have opposing views. It then begs the question: If even enlightened institutions fail at a nonjudgmental approach toward their colleagues, what hope is there for the rest of us clinicians, mired in the thick of day-to-day clinical practice?

It is our contention that the odds are against us. Even the aforementioned critique of psychoanalytic orthodoxy is just another example of how we humans organize our experience. Even as we write an article in argument against unbridled critique, we find it difficult to do so without engaging in it. For to criticize another is to help shore up our own personal identities. This is especially the case when clinicians deal with issues that we feel strongly about. The human psyche has a need to organize its experience, as “our experience of ourselves is fundamental to how we operate in the world. Our subjective experience is the phenomenology of all that one might be aware of.”¹

In this vein, we would like to cite attribution theory. This is a view of human behavior within social psychology. The Austrian psychologist Fritz Heider, PhD, investigated “the domain of social interactions, wondering how people perceive each other in interaction and especially how they make sense of each other’s behavior.”² Attribution theory suggests that as humans organize our social interactions, we may make two basic assumptions. One is that our own behavior is highly affected by an environment that is beyond our control. The second is that when judging the behavior of others, we are more likely to attribute it to internal traits that they have. A classic example is automobile traffic. When we see someone driving erratically, we are more likely to blame them for being an inherently bad driver. However, if attention is called to our own driving, we are more likely to cite external factors such as rush hour, a bad driver around us, or a faulty vehicle.

We would like to reference one last model of human behavior. It has become customary within the field of neuroscience to view the brain as a predictive organ: “Theories of prediction in perception, action, and learning suggest that the brain serves to reduce the discrepancies between expectation and actual experience, i.e., by reducing the prediction error.”³ Perception itself has recently been described as a controlled hallucination, where the brain makes predictions of what it thinks it is about to see based on past experiences. Visual stimulus ultimately takes time to enter our eyes and be processed in the brain – “predictions would need to preactivate neural representations that would typically be driven by sensory input, before the actual arrival of that input.”⁴ It thus seems to be an inherent method of the brain to anticipate visual and even social events to help human beings sustain themselves.

Having spoken of a psychoanalytic conceptualization of self-organization, the theory of attribution, and research into social neuroscience, we turn our attention back to the central question that this article would like to address. Can we, as clinicians, truly put ourselves into the mindset of our colleagues and appreciate, and even agree with, the philosophies and methodologies of our fellow psychiatrists?

When we find ourselves busy in rote clinical practice, we believe the likelihood of intercollegiate mentalization is low; our ability to relate to our peers becomes strained. We ultimately do not practice in a vacuum. Psychiatrists, even those in a solo private practice, are ultimately part of a community of providers who, more or less, follow some emergent ‘standard of care.’ This can be a vague concept; but one that takes on a concrete form in the minds of certain clinicians and certainly in the setting of a medicolegal court. Yet, the psychiatrists that we know all have very stereotyped ways of practice. And at the heart of it, we all think that we are right.

We can use polypharmacy as an example. Imagine that you have a new patient intake, who tells you that they are transferring care from another psychiatrist. They inform you of their medication regimen. This patient presents on eight or more psychotropics. Many of us may have a visceral reaction at this point and, following the aforementioned attribution theory, we may ask ourselves what ‘quack’ of a doctor would do this. Yet some among us would think that a very competent psychopharmacologist was daring enough to use the full armamentarium of psychopharmacology to help this patient, who must be treatment refractory.

When speaking with such a patient, we would be quick to reflect on our own parsimonious use of medications. We would tell ourselves that we are responsible providers and would be quick to recommend discontinuation of medications. This would help us feel better about ourselves, and would of course assuage the ever-present medicolegal ‘big brother’ in our minds. It is through this very process that we affirm our self-identities. For if this patient’s previous physician was a bad psychiatrist, then we are a good psychiatrist. It is through this process that our clinical selves find confirmation.

We do not mean to reduce the complexities of human behavior to quick stereotypes. However, it is our belief that when confronted with clinical or philosophical disputes with our colleagues, the basic rules of human behavior will attempt to dissolve and override efforts at mentalization, collegiality, or interpersonal sensitivity. For to accept a clinical practice view that is different from ours would be akin to giving up the essence of our clinical identities. It could be compared to the fragmentation process of a vulnerable psyche when confronted with a reality that is at odds with preconceived notions and experiences.

While we may be able to appreciate the nuances and sensibilities of another provider, we believe it would be particularly difficult for most of us to actually attempt to practice in a fashion that is not congruent with our own organizers of experience. Whether or not our practice style is ‘perfect,’ it has worked for us. Social neuroscience and our understanding of the organization of the self would predict that we would hold onto our way of practice with all the mind’s defenses. Externalization, denial, and projection could all be called into action in this battle against existential fragmentation.

Do we seek to portray a clinical world where there is no hope for genuine modeling of clinical sensibilities to other psychiatrists? That is not our intention. Yet it seems that many of the theoretical frameworks that we subscribe to argue against this possibility. We would be hypocritical if we did not here state that our own theoretical frameworks are yet other examples of “organizers of experience.” Attribution theory, intersubjectivity, and social neuroscience are simply our ways of organizing the chaos of perceptions, ideas, and intricacies of human behavior.

If we accept that psychiatrists, like all human beings, are trapped in a subjective experience, then we can be more playful and flexible when interacting with our colleagues. We do not have to be as defensive of our practices and accusatory of others. If we practice daily according to some orthodoxy, then we color our experiences of the patient and of our colleagues’ ways of practice. We automatically start off on the wrong foot. And yet, to give up this orthodoxy would, by definition, be disorganizing and fragmenting to us. For as Nietzsche said, “truth is an illusion without which a certain species could not survive.”⁵

Dr. Khalafian practices full time as a general outpatient psychiatrist. He trained at the University of California, San Diego, for his psychiatric residency and currently works as a telepsychiatrist, serving an outpatient clinic population in northern California. Dr. Badre is a clinical and forensic psychiatrist in San Diego. He holds teaching positions at the University of California, San Diego, and the University of San Diego. He teaches medical education, psychopharmacology, ethics in psychiatry, and correctional care. Dr. Badre can be reached at his website, BadreMD.com. Dr. Badre and Dr. Khalafian have no conflicts of interest.

References

1. Buirski P and Haglund P. Making sense together: The intersubjective approach to psychotherapy. Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson; 2001.

2. Malle BF. Attribution theories: How people make sense of behavior. In Chadee D (ed.), Theories in social psychology. pp. 72-95. Wiley-Blackwell; 2011.

3. Brown EC and Brune M. The role of prediction in social neuroscience. Front Hum Neurosci. 2012 May 24;6:147. doi: 10.3389/fnhum.2012.00147.

4. Blom T et al. Predictions drive neural representations of visual events ahead of incoming sensory information. Proc Natl Acad Sci USA. 2020 Mar 31;117(13):7510-7515. doi: 10.1073/pnas.1917777117.

5. Yalom I. The Gift of Therapy. Harper Perennial; 2002.

Hi, everyone. I’m Dr Kenny Lin. I am a family physician and associate director of the Lancaster (Pa.) General Hospital Family Medicine Residency, and I blog at Common Sense Family Doctor.

For most of my career, I have precepted residents in primary care clinics. Generally, 1st years are scheduled to see a patient every 45 minutes on average, then every 30 minutes after the first 6 months. By the 3rd year, residents are scheduled to see a patient every 15 minutes to approximate the frequency at which patients are routinely seen in practice. Adult health maintenance visits are typically allotted two slots, for a total of 30 minutes.

The gradually increased pace of seeing patients is a challenge for many residents. It requires them to not only perform more focused medical histories and physical examinations but also to address a select handful of issues in patients who may have a long list of health concerns or preventive care needs. Prioritizing tasks into those that are necessary to do today vs. those that can be deferred to a follow-up visit is an essential skill that is equal parts art and science. In a previous commentary, I wrote about a research group’s efforts to create visual decision aids to generate individualized estimates of life expectancy gains from various preventive services.

Of course, it’s uncommon to have the luxury of focusing exclusively on preventive care in older adults, most of whom have one or more chronic conditions. Obesity, diabetes, hypertension, hypothyroidism, chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, coronary artery disease, and chronic kidney disease each has its own set of management guidelines. According to a recent estimate, following all guideline recommendations for chronic diseases plus those for preventive and acute care would require a primary care physician with a nationally representative panel of adult patients to work an impossible 27-hour day. That’s another good reason for me to continue seeing children in practice!

In a commentary in The BMJ, Dr Minna Johansson and colleagues argued that guideline panels should explicitly consider the estimated clinician time needed to improve the desired outcome for one person in the targeted population, a metric that they call “time needed to treat” (TNT). For example, to implement a National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (NICE) guideline for U.K. general practitioners (GPs) about providing advice to physically inactive adults would require 3 hours for one more person to increase their self-reported physical activity. For a patient panel of 2000 adults, the absolute TNT would be 167 hours per GP, representing 15% of yearly total face time with all patients, which seems clearly excessive.

In fact, the U.S. Preventive Services Task Force does occasionally consider the “opportunity costs” of recommending preventive services. When they first reviewed screening for chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) in 2008, the USPSTF reasoned that the minimal benefit of screening hundreds of patients to prevent a single COPD exacerbation was at least offset by the time and resources it would take to perform spirometry on every adult with a smoking history, a conclusion that it reaffirmed last year. In contrast to NICE, the USPSTF recommends selectively counseling adults without cardiovascular risk factors to promote a healthy diet and physical activity rather than counseling every single person.

Other US guideline groups would do well to adopt the advice of Johansson and colleagues to consider TNT. Last year, the Women’s Preventive Services Initiative (WPSI) recommended counseling every woman aged 40-60 years with normal or overweight body mass index “to maintain weight or limit weight gain to prevent obesity.” Though preventing obesity is a laudable goal, I’d prefer to counsel those who are obese and suffering from obesity-related conditions and spend my 15 or 30 minutes with others doing something more valuable, like listening to the patient. As Dr. Johansson and colleagues wrote in their commentary, “Healthcare policies also need to account for the time clinicians should spend listening in silence, noticing carefully, and cocreating sensible plans of care with patients.”

Having served on several guideline panels in the past, I believe that thoughtfully developed evidence-based guidelines can help family physicians care for patients. But guidelines will never make up all of medicine, particularly primary care, where following too many well-intended recommendations can sometimes get in the way of being a good doctor.

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

Hi, everyone. I’m Dr Kenny Lin. I am a family physician and associate director of the Lancaster (Pa.) General Hospital Family Medicine Residency, and I blog at Common Sense Family Doctor.

For most of my career, I have precepted residents in primary care clinics. Generally, 1st years are scheduled to see a patient every 45 minutes on average, then every 30 minutes after the first 6 months. By the 3rd year, residents are scheduled to see a patient every 15 minutes to approximate the frequency at which patients are routinely seen in practice. Adult health maintenance visits are typically allotted two slots, for a total of 30 minutes.

The gradually increased pace of seeing patients is a challenge for many residents. It requires them to not only perform more focused medical histories and physical examinations but also to address a select handful of issues in patients who may have a long list of health concerns or preventive care needs. Prioritizing tasks into those that are necessary to do today vs. those that can be deferred to a follow-up visit is an essential skill that is equal parts art and science. In a previous commentary, I wrote about a research group’s efforts to create visual decision aids to generate individualized estimates of life expectancy gains from various preventive services.

Of course, it’s uncommon to have the luxury of focusing exclusively on preventive care in older adults, most of whom have one or more chronic conditions. Obesity, diabetes, hypertension, hypothyroidism, chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, coronary artery disease, and chronic kidney disease each has its own set of management guidelines. According to a recent estimate, following all guideline recommendations for chronic diseases plus those for preventive and acute care would require a primary care physician with a nationally representative panel of adult patients to work an impossible 27-hour day. That’s another good reason for me to continue seeing children in practice!

In a commentary in The BMJ, Dr Minna Johansson and colleagues argued that guideline panels should explicitly consider the estimated clinician time needed to improve the desired outcome for one person in the targeted population, a metric that they call “time needed to treat” (TNT). For example, to implement a National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (NICE) guideline for U.K. general practitioners (GPs) about providing advice to physically inactive adults would require 3 hours for one more person to increase their self-reported physical activity. For a patient panel of 2000 adults, the absolute TNT would be 167 hours per GP, representing 15% of yearly total face time with all patients, which seems clearly excessive.

In fact, the U.S. Preventive Services Task Force does occasionally consider the “opportunity costs” of recommending preventive services. When they first reviewed screening for chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) in 2008, the USPSTF reasoned that the minimal benefit of screening hundreds of patients to prevent a single COPD exacerbation was at least offset by the time and resources it would take to perform spirometry on every adult with a smoking history, a conclusion that it reaffirmed last year. In contrast to NICE, the USPSTF recommends selectively counseling adults without cardiovascular risk factors to promote a healthy diet and physical activity rather than counseling every single person.

Other US guideline groups would do well to adopt the advice of Johansson and colleagues to consider TNT. Last year, the Women’s Preventive Services Initiative (WPSI) recommended counseling every woman aged 40-60 years with normal or overweight body mass index “to maintain weight or limit weight gain to prevent obesity.” Though preventing obesity is a laudable goal, I’d prefer to counsel those who are obese and suffering from obesity-related conditions and spend my 15 or 30 minutes with others doing something more valuable, like listening to the patient. As Dr. Johansson and colleagues wrote in their commentary, “Healthcare policies also need to account for the time clinicians should spend listening in silence, noticing carefully, and cocreating sensible plans of care with patients.”

Having served on several guideline panels in the past, I believe that thoughtfully developed evidence-based guidelines can help family physicians care for patients. But guidelines will never make up all of medicine, particularly primary care, where following too many well-intended recommendations can sometimes get in the way of being a good doctor.

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

Hi, everyone. I’m Dr Kenny Lin. I am a family physician and associate director of the Lancaster (Pa.) General Hospital Family Medicine Residency, and I blog at Common Sense Family Doctor.

For most of my career, I have precepted residents in primary care clinics. Generally, 1st years are scheduled to see a patient every 45 minutes on average, then every 30 minutes after the first 6 months. By the 3rd year, residents are scheduled to see a patient every 15 minutes to approximate the frequency at which patients are routinely seen in practice. Adult health maintenance visits are typically allotted two slots, for a total of 30 minutes.

The gradually increased pace of seeing patients is a challenge for many residents. It requires them to not only perform more focused medical histories and physical examinations but also to address a select handful of issues in patients who may have a long list of health concerns or preventive care needs. Prioritizing tasks into those that are necessary to do today vs. those that can be deferred to a follow-up visit is an essential skill that is equal parts art and science. In a previous commentary, I wrote about a research group’s efforts to create visual decision aids to generate individualized estimates of life expectancy gains from various preventive services.

Of course, it’s uncommon to have the luxury of focusing exclusively on preventive care in older adults, most of whom have one or more chronic conditions. Obesity, diabetes, hypertension, hypothyroidism, chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, coronary artery disease, and chronic kidney disease each has its own set of management guidelines. According to a recent estimate, following all guideline recommendations for chronic diseases plus those for preventive and acute care would require a primary care physician with a nationally representative panel of adult patients to work an impossible 27-hour day. That’s another good reason for me to continue seeing children in practice!

In a commentary in The BMJ, Dr Minna Johansson and colleagues argued that guideline panels should explicitly consider the estimated clinician time needed to improve the desired outcome for one person in the targeted population, a metric that they call “time needed to treat” (TNT). For example, to implement a National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (NICE) guideline for U.K. general practitioners (GPs) about providing advice to physically inactive adults would require 3 hours for one more person to increase their self-reported physical activity. For a patient panel of 2000 adults, the absolute TNT would be 167 hours per GP, representing 15% of yearly total face time with all patients, which seems clearly excessive.

In fact, the U.S. Preventive Services Task Force does occasionally consider the “opportunity costs” of recommending preventive services. When they first reviewed screening for chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) in 2008, the USPSTF reasoned that the minimal benefit of screening hundreds of patients to prevent a single COPD exacerbation was at least offset by the time and resources it would take to perform spirometry on every adult with a smoking history, a conclusion that it reaffirmed last year. In contrast to NICE, the USPSTF recommends selectively counseling adults without cardiovascular risk factors to promote a healthy diet and physical activity rather than counseling every single person.

Other US guideline groups would do well to adopt the advice of Johansson and colleagues to consider TNT. Last year, the Women’s Preventive Services Initiative (WPSI) recommended counseling every woman aged 40-60 years with normal or overweight body mass index “to maintain weight or limit weight gain to prevent obesity.” Though preventing obesity is a laudable goal, I’d prefer to counsel those who are obese and suffering from obesity-related conditions and spend my 15 or 30 minutes with others doing something more valuable, like listening to the patient. As Dr. Johansson and colleagues wrote in their commentary, “Healthcare policies also need to account for the time clinicians should spend listening in silence, noticing carefully, and cocreating sensible plans of care with patients.”

Having served on several guideline panels in the past, I believe that thoughtfully developed evidence-based guidelines can help family physicians care for patients. But guidelines will never make up all of medicine, particularly primary care, where following too many well-intended recommendations can sometimes get in the way of being a good doctor.

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

The 2022 mpox (monkeypox) virus outbreak represents the latest example of how infectious diseases with previously limited reach can spread in a globalized society. More than 86,000 cases have been reported worldwide, with more than 30,000 cases in the United States as of March 15, 2023.¹ Herein, we summarize the key features of mpox infection for the dermatologist.

Mpox Transmission

The mpox virus is a double-stranded DNA virus of the Orthopoxvirus genus and Poxviridae family.^2,3 There are 2 types of the mpox virus: clade I (formerly the Congo Basin clade) and clade II (formerly the West African clade). Clade I causes more severe disease (10% mortality rate), while clade II is associated with lower mortality (1%–3%) and has been split into subclades of IIa (exhibits zoonotic transmission) and IIb (exhibits human-to-human spread).^3,4 The current outbreak is caused by clade IIb, and patients typically have no travel history to classic endemic regions.^5,6

In endemic countries, mpox transmission is zoonotic from small forest animals. In nonendemic countries, sporadic cases rarely have been reported, including a cluster in the United States in 2003 related to pet prairie dogs. In stark contrast, human-to-human transmission is occurring in the current epidemic mainly via intimate skin-to-skin contact and possibly via sexual fluids, meeting the criteria for a sexually transmitted infection. However, nonsexual transmission does still occur, though it is less common.⁷ Many of the reported cases so far are in young to middle-aged men who have sex with men (MSM).^2,8 However, it is crucial to understand that mpox is not exclusive to the MSM population; the virus has been transmitted to heterosexual males, females, children, and even household pets of infected individuals.^2,9,10 Labeling mpox as exclusive to the MSM community is both inaccurate and inappropriately stigmatizing.

Cutaneous Presentation and Diagnosis of Mpox

Mpox has an incubation time of approximately 9 days (range, 7–21 days), after which affected persons develop macular lesions that evolve over 2 to 4 weeks into papules, vesicles, and deep-seated pustules before crusting over and resolving with possible residual scarring.^{2,3,5,9,11,12} Palmoplantar involvement is a key feature.¹¹ Although in some cases there will be multiple lesions with centrifugal progression, the lesions also may be few in number, with some patients presenting with a single lesion in the anogenital region or on the face, hand, or foot (Figure).^6,9 Systemic symptoms such as prodromal fever, lymphadenopathy, and headache are common but not universal.^9,13 Potential complications include penile edema, proctitis, bacterial superinfection, tonsillitis, conjunctivitis, encephalitis, and pneumonia.^5,9,13

Images used with permission from Roneet Lev, MD (San Diego, California), and VisualDx.

A high index of suspicion is needed to diagnose mpox infection. The differential diagnosis includes smallpox; varicella-zoster virus (primary or reactivation); secondary syphilis; measles; herpes simplex virus; molluscum contagiosum; hand, foot, and mouth disease; and disseminated gonococcal infection.^2,3 For lesions confined to the genital area, sexually transmitted infections (eg, chancroid, lymphogranuloma venereum) as well as non–sexually related acute genital ulcers (Lipschütz ulcers) should be considered.²

Certain clinical features may help in distinguishing mpox from other diseases. Mpox exhibits synchronous progression and centrifugal distribution when multiple lesions are present; in contrast, the lesions of primary varicella (chickenpox) appear in multiple different stages, and those of localized herpes zoster (shingles) exhibit a dermatomal distribution. When these features are present, mpox causes a greater degree of lymphadenopathy and systemic symptoms than primary varicella.³Clinical diagnosis of mpox is more than 90% sensitive but only 9% to 26% specific.³ To confirm the diagnosis, a viral swab vigorously obtained from active skin lesions should be sent in viral transport media for mpox DNA-specific polymerase chain reaction testing, which is available from major laboratories.^2,3 Other supportive tests include serum studies for anti–mpox virus immunoglobulins and immunohistochemical staining for viral antigens on skin biopsy specimens.² When evaluating suspected and confirmed mpox cases, dermatologists should wear a gown, gloves, a fitted N95 mask, and eye protection to prevent infection.⁵

Treating Mpox

Symptomatic mpox infection can last for up to 2 to 5 weeks.³ The patient is no longer infectious once the lesions have crusted over.^3,11 The majority of cases require supportive care only.^2,3,5,14 However, mpox remains a potentially fatal disease, with 38 deaths to date in the current outbreak.¹ High-risk populations include children younger than 8 years, pregnant women, and individuals who are immunocompromised.¹⁵ Tecovirimat, an antiviral medication approved by the US Food and Drug Administration (FDA) for smallpox, is available via the expanded access Investigational New Drug (EA-IND) protocol to treat severe mpox cases but is not widely available in the United States.^6,16-18 Brincidofovir, a prodrug of the antiviral cidofovir, possesses single-patient emergency use Investigational New Drug (e-IND) status for treatment of mpox but also is not widely available in the United States.¹⁷ Intravenous vaccinia immune globulin is under consideration for high-risk individuals, but little is known regarding its efficacy against mpox.^5,16,17

Two smallpox vaccines—JYNNEOS (Bavarian Nordic) and ACAM2000 (Emergent Bio Solutions)—are available for both preexposure and postexposure prophylaxis against mpox virus.¹⁹ At this time, only JYNNEOS is FDA approved for the prevention of mpox; ACAM2000 can be used against mpox under the FDA’s EA-IND protocol, which involves additional requirements, including informed consent from the patient.²⁰ ACAM2000 is a live, replication-competent vaccine that carries a warning of increased risk for side effects in patients with cardiac disease, pregnancy, immunocompromise, and a history or presence of eczema and other skin conditions.^3,21,22 JYNNEOS is a live but replication-deficient virus and therefore does not carry these warnings.^3,21,22

Final Thoughts

Mpox is no longer an obscure illness occurring in limited geographic areas. Dermatologists must remain highly vigilant when evaluating any patient for new-onset vesicular or pustular eruptions to combat this ongoing public health threat. This issue of Cutis^® also features a thorough mpox update on the clinical presentation, vaccine guidance, and management.²³

The 2022 mpox (monkeypox) virus outbreak represents the latest example of how infectious diseases with previously limited reach can spread in a globalized society. More than 86,000 cases have been reported worldwide, with more than 30,000 cases in the United States as of March 15, 2023.¹ Herein, we summarize the key features of mpox infection for the dermatologist.

Mpox Transmission

The mpox virus is a double-stranded DNA virus of the Orthopoxvirus genus and Poxviridae family.^2,3 There are 2 types of the mpox virus: clade I (formerly the Congo Basin clade) and clade II (formerly the West African clade). Clade I causes more severe disease (10% mortality rate), while clade II is associated with lower mortality (1%–3%) and has been split into subclades of IIa (exhibits zoonotic transmission) and IIb (exhibits human-to-human spread).^3,4 The current outbreak is caused by clade IIb, and patients typically have no travel history to classic endemic regions.^5,6

In endemic countries, mpox transmission is zoonotic from small forest animals. In nonendemic countries, sporadic cases rarely have been reported, including a cluster in the United States in 2003 related to pet prairie dogs. In stark contrast, human-to-human transmission is occurring in the current epidemic mainly via intimate skin-to-skin contact and possibly via sexual fluids, meeting the criteria for a sexually transmitted infection. However, nonsexual transmission does still occur, though it is less common.⁷ Many of the reported cases so far are in young to middle-aged men who have sex with men (MSM).^2,8 However, it is crucial to understand that mpox is not exclusive to the MSM population; the virus has been transmitted to heterosexual males, females, children, and even household pets of infected individuals.^2,9,10 Labeling mpox as exclusive to the MSM community is both inaccurate and inappropriately stigmatizing.

Cutaneous Presentation and Diagnosis of Mpox

Mpox has an incubation time of approximately 9 days (range, 7–21 days), after which affected persons develop macular lesions that evolve over 2 to 4 weeks into papules, vesicles, and deep-seated pustules before crusting over and resolving with possible residual scarring.^{2,3,5,9,11,12} Palmoplantar involvement is a key feature.¹¹ Although in some cases there will be multiple lesions with centrifugal progression, the lesions also may be few in number, with some patients presenting with a single lesion in the anogenital region or on the face, hand, or foot (Figure).^6,9 Systemic symptoms such as prodromal fever, lymphadenopathy, and headache are common but not universal.^9,13 Potential complications include penile edema, proctitis, bacterial superinfection, tonsillitis, conjunctivitis, encephalitis, and pneumonia.^5,9,13

Images used with permission from Roneet Lev, MD (San Diego, California), and VisualDx.

A high index of suspicion is needed to diagnose mpox infection. The differential diagnosis includes smallpox; varicella-zoster virus (primary or reactivation); secondary syphilis; measles; herpes simplex virus; molluscum contagiosum; hand, foot, and mouth disease; and disseminated gonococcal infection.^2,3 For lesions confined to the genital area, sexually transmitted infections (eg, chancroid, lymphogranuloma venereum) as well as non–sexually related acute genital ulcers (Lipschütz ulcers) should be considered.²

Certain clinical features may help in distinguishing mpox from other diseases. Mpox exhibits synchronous progression and centrifugal distribution when multiple lesions are present; in contrast, the lesions of primary varicella (chickenpox) appear in multiple different stages, and those of localized herpes zoster (shingles) exhibit a dermatomal distribution. When these features are present, mpox causes a greater degree of lymphadenopathy and systemic symptoms than primary varicella.³Clinical diagnosis of mpox is more than 90% sensitive but only 9% to 26% specific.³ To confirm the diagnosis, a viral swab vigorously obtained from active skin lesions should be sent in viral transport media for mpox DNA-specific polymerase chain reaction testing, which is available from major laboratories.^2,3 Other supportive tests include serum studies for anti–mpox virus immunoglobulins and immunohistochemical staining for viral antigens on skin biopsy specimens.² When evaluating suspected and confirmed mpox cases, dermatologists should wear a gown, gloves, a fitted N95 mask, and eye protection to prevent infection.⁵

Treating Mpox

Symptomatic mpox infection can last for up to 2 to 5 weeks.³ The patient is no longer infectious once the lesions have crusted over.^3,11 The majority of cases require supportive care only.^2,3,5,14 However, mpox remains a potentially fatal disease, with 38 deaths to date in the current outbreak.¹ High-risk populations include children younger than 8 years, pregnant women, and individuals who are immunocompromised.¹⁵ Tecovirimat, an antiviral medication approved by the US Food and Drug Administration (FDA) for smallpox, is available via the expanded access Investigational New Drug (EA-IND) protocol to treat severe mpox cases but is not widely available in the United States.^6,16-18 Brincidofovir, a prodrug of the antiviral cidofovir, possesses single-patient emergency use Investigational New Drug (e-IND) status for treatment of mpox but also is not widely available in the United States.¹⁷ Intravenous vaccinia immune globulin is under consideration for high-risk individuals, but little is known regarding its efficacy against mpox.^5,16,17

Two smallpox vaccines—JYNNEOS (Bavarian Nordic) and ACAM2000 (Emergent Bio Solutions)—are available for both preexposure and postexposure prophylaxis against mpox virus.¹⁹ At this time, only JYNNEOS is FDA approved for the prevention of mpox; ACAM2000 can be used against mpox under the FDA’s EA-IND protocol, which involves additional requirements, including informed consent from the patient.²⁰ ACAM2000 is a live, replication-competent vaccine that carries a warning of increased risk for side effects in patients with cardiac disease, pregnancy, immunocompromise, and a history or presence of eczema and other skin conditions.^3,21,22 JYNNEOS is a live but replication-deficient virus and therefore does not carry these warnings.^3,21,22

Final Thoughts

Mpox is no longer an obscure illness occurring in limited geographic areas. Dermatologists must remain highly vigilant when evaluating any patient for new-onset vesicular or pustular eruptions to combat this ongoing public health threat. This issue of Cutis^® also features a thorough mpox update on the clinical presentation, vaccine guidance, and management.²³

The 2022 mpox (monkeypox) virus outbreak represents the latest example of how infectious diseases with previously limited reach can spread in a globalized society. More than 86,000 cases have been reported worldwide, with more than 30,000 cases in the United States as of March 15, 2023.¹ Herein, we summarize the key features of mpox infection for the dermatologist.

Mpox Transmission

The mpox virus is a double-stranded DNA virus of the Orthopoxvirus genus and Poxviridae family.^2,3 There are 2 types of the mpox virus: clade I (formerly the Congo Basin clade) and clade II (formerly the West African clade). Clade I causes more severe disease (10% mortality rate), while clade II is associated with lower mortality (1%–3%) and has been split into subclades of IIa (exhibits zoonotic transmission) and IIb (exhibits human-to-human spread).^3,4 The current outbreak is caused by clade IIb, and patients typically have no travel history to classic endemic regions.^5,6

In endemic countries, mpox transmission is zoonotic from small forest animals. In nonendemic countries, sporadic cases rarely have been reported, including a cluster in the United States in 2003 related to pet prairie dogs. In stark contrast, human-to-human transmission is occurring in the current epidemic mainly via intimate skin-to-skin contact and possibly via sexual fluids, meeting the criteria for a sexually transmitted infection. However, nonsexual transmission does still occur, though it is less common.⁷ Many of the reported cases so far are in young to middle-aged men who have sex with men (MSM).^2,8 However, it is crucial to understand that mpox is not exclusive to the MSM population; the virus has been transmitted to heterosexual males, females, children, and even household pets of infected individuals.^2,9,10 Labeling mpox as exclusive to the MSM community is both inaccurate and inappropriately stigmatizing.

Cutaneous Presentation and Diagnosis of Mpox

Mpox has an incubation time of approximately 9 days (range, 7–21 days), after which affected persons develop macular lesions that evolve over 2 to 4 weeks into papules, vesicles, and deep-seated pustules before crusting over and resolving with possible residual scarring.^{2,3,5,9,11,12} Palmoplantar involvement is a key feature.¹¹ Although in some cases there will be multiple lesions with centrifugal progression, the lesions also may be few in number, with some patients presenting with a single lesion in the anogenital region or on the face, hand, or foot (Figure).^6,9 Systemic symptoms such as prodromal fever, lymphadenopathy, and headache are common but not universal.^9,13 Potential complications include penile edema, proctitis, bacterial superinfection, tonsillitis, conjunctivitis, encephalitis, and pneumonia.^5,9,13

Images used with permission from Roneet Lev, MD (San Diego, California), and VisualDx.

A high index of suspicion is needed to diagnose mpox infection. The differential diagnosis includes smallpox; varicella-zoster virus (primary or reactivation); secondary syphilis; measles; herpes simplex virus; molluscum contagiosum; hand, foot, and mouth disease; and disseminated gonococcal infection.^2,3 For lesions confined to the genital area, sexually transmitted infections (eg, chancroid, lymphogranuloma venereum) as well as non–sexually related acute genital ulcers (Lipschütz ulcers) should be considered.²

Certain clinical features may help in distinguishing mpox from other diseases. Mpox exhibits synchronous progression and centrifugal distribution when multiple lesions are present; in contrast, the lesions of primary varicella (chickenpox) appear in multiple different stages, and those of localized herpes zoster (shingles) exhibit a dermatomal distribution. When these features are present, mpox causes a greater degree of lymphadenopathy and systemic symptoms than primary varicella.³Clinical diagnosis of mpox is more than 90% sensitive but only 9% to 26% specific.³ To confirm the diagnosis, a viral swab vigorously obtained from active skin lesions should be sent in viral transport media for mpox DNA-specific polymerase chain reaction testing, which is available from major laboratories.^2,3 Other supportive tests include serum studies for anti–mpox virus immunoglobulins and immunohistochemical staining for viral antigens on skin biopsy specimens.² When evaluating suspected and confirmed mpox cases, dermatologists should wear a gown, gloves, a fitted N95 mask, and eye protection to prevent infection.⁵

Treating Mpox

Symptomatic mpox infection can last for up to 2 to 5 weeks.³ The patient is no longer infectious once the lesions have crusted over.^3,11 The majority of cases require supportive care only.^2,3,5,14 However, mpox remains a potentially fatal disease, with 38 deaths to date in the current outbreak.¹ High-risk populations include children younger than 8 years, pregnant women, and individuals who are immunocompromised.¹⁵ Tecovirimat, an antiviral medication approved by the US Food and Drug Administration (FDA) for smallpox, is available via the expanded access Investigational New Drug (EA-IND) protocol to treat severe mpox cases but is not widely available in the United States.^6,16-18 Brincidofovir, a prodrug of the antiviral cidofovir, possesses single-patient emergency use Investigational New Drug (e-IND) status for treatment of mpox but also is not widely available in the United States.¹⁷ Intravenous vaccinia immune globulin is under consideration for high-risk individuals, but little is known regarding its efficacy against mpox.^5,16,17

Two smallpox vaccines—JYNNEOS (Bavarian Nordic) and ACAM2000 (Emergent Bio Solutions)—are available for both preexposure and postexposure prophylaxis against mpox virus.¹⁹ At this time, only JYNNEOS is FDA approved for the prevention of mpox; ACAM2000 can be used against mpox under the FDA’s EA-IND protocol, which involves additional requirements, including informed consent from the patient.²⁰ ACAM2000 is a live, replication-competent vaccine that carries a warning of increased risk for side effects in patients with cardiac disease, pregnancy, immunocompromise, and a history or presence of eczema and other skin conditions.^3,21,22 JYNNEOS is a live but replication-deficient virus and therefore does not carry these warnings.^3,21,22

Final Thoughts

Mpox is no longer an obscure illness occurring in limited geographic areas. Dermatologists must remain highly vigilant when evaluating any patient for new-onset vesicular or pustular eruptions to combat this ongoing public health threat. This issue of Cutis^® also features a thorough mpox update on the clinical presentation, vaccine guidance, and management.²³

I started taking care of Jim, a 68-year-old man with metastatic renal cell carcinoma back in the fall of 2018. Jim lived far from our clinic in the rural western Sierra Mountains and had a hard time getting to Santa Monica, but needed ongoing pain and symptom management, as well as follow-up visits with oncology and discussions with our teams about preparing for the end of life.

Luckily for Jim, the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services had relaxed the rules around telehealth because of the public health emergency, and we were easily able to provide telemedicine visits throughout the pandemic ensuring that Jim retained access to the care team that had managed his cancer for several years at that point. This would not have been possible without the use of telemedicine – at least not without great effort and expense by Jim to make frequent trips to our Santa Monica clinic.

So, you can imagine my apprehension when I received an email the other day from our billing department, informing billing providers like myself that “telehealth visits are still covered through the end of the year.” While this initially seemed like reassuring news, it immediately begged the question – what happens at the end of the year? What will care look like for patients like Jim who live at a significant distance from their providers?

The end of the COVID-19 public health emergency on May 11 has prompted states to reevaluate the future of telehealth for Medicaid and Medicare recipients. Most states plan to make some telehealth services permanent, particularly in rural areas. While other telehealth services have been extended through Dec. 31, 2024, under the Consolidated Appropriations Act of 2023.

But still, I worry about the end of the telemedicine era because telehealth (or, “video visits”) has revolutionized outpatient palliative care delivery. We can now see very ill patients in their own homes without imposing an undue burden on them to come in for yet another office visit. Prior to the public health emergency, our embedded palliative care program would see patients only when they were in the oncology clinic so as to not burden them with having to travel to yet another clinic. This made our palliative providers less efficient since patients were being seen by multiple providers in the same space, which led to some time spent waiting around. It also frequently tied up our clinic exam rooms for long periods of time, delaying care for patients sitting in the waiting room.

Telehealth changed that virtually overnight. With the widespread availability of smartphones and tablets, patients could stay at home and speak more comfortably in their own surroundings – especially about the difficult topics we tend to dig into in palliative care – such as fears, suffering, grief, loss, legacy, regret, trauma, gratitude, dying – without the impersonal, aseptic environment of a clinic. We could visit with their family/caregivers, kids, and their pets. We could tour their living space and see how they were managing from a functional standpoint. We could get to know aspects of our patients’ lives that we’d never have seen in the clinic that could help us understand their goals and values better and help care for them more fully.

The benefit to the institution was also measurable. We could see our patients faster – the time from referral to consult dropped dramatically because patients could be scheduled for next-day virtual visits instead of having to wait for them to come back to an oncology visit. We could do quick symptom-focused visits that prior to telehealth would have been conducted by phone without the ability to perform at the very least an observational physical exam of the patient, which is important when prescribing medications to medically frail populations.
 

If telemedicine goes, how will it affect outpatient palliative care?

If that goes away, I do not know what will happen to outpatient palliative care. I can tell you we will be much less efficient in terms of when we see patients. There will probably be a higher clinic burden to patients, as well as higher financial toxicity to patients (Parking in the structure attached to my office building is $22 per day). And, what about the uncaptured costs associated with transportation for those whose illness prevents them from driving themselves? This can range from Uber costs to the time cost for a patient’s family member to take off work and arrange for childcare in order to drive the patient to a clinic for a visit.

In February, I received emails from the Drug Enforcement Agency suggesting that they, too, may roll back providers’ ability to prescribe controlled substances to patients who are mainly receiving telehealth services. While I understand and fully support the need to curb inappropriate overprescribing of controlled medications, I am concerned about the unintended consequences to cancer patients who live at a remote distance from their oncologists and palliative care providers. I remain hopeful that DEA will consider a carveout exception for those patients who have cancer, are receiving palliative care services, or are deemed to be at the end of life, much like the chronic opioid guidelines developed by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention have done.
 

Telemedicine in essential care

Back to Jim. Using telehealth and electronic prescribing, our oncology and palliative care programs were able to keep Jim comfortable and at home through the end of his life. He did not have to travel 3 hours each way to get care. He did not have to spend money on parking and gas, and his daughter did not have to take days off work and arrange for a babysitter in order to drive him to our clinic. We partnered with a local pharmacy that was willing to special order medications for Jim when his pain became worse and he required a long-acting opioid. We partnered with a local home health company that kept a close eye on Jim and let us know when he seemed to be declining further, prompting discussions about transitioning to hospice.

I’m proud of the fact that our group helped Jim stay in comfortable surroundings and out of the clinic and hospital over the last 6 months of his life, but that would never have happened without the safe and thoughtful use of telehealth by our team.

Ironically, because of a public health emergency, we were able to provide efficient and high-quality palliative care at the right time, to the right person, in the right place, satisfying CMS goals to provide better care for patients and whole populations at lower costs.

Ms. D’Ambruoso is a hospice and palliative care nurse practitioner for UCLA Health Cancer Care, Santa Monica, Calif.

I started taking care of Jim, a 68-year-old man with metastatic renal cell carcinoma back in the fall of 2018. Jim lived far from our clinic in the rural western Sierra Mountains and had a hard time getting to Santa Monica, but needed ongoing pain and symptom management, as well as follow-up visits with oncology and discussions with our teams about preparing for the end of life.

Luckily for Jim, the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services had relaxed the rules around telehealth because of the public health emergency, and we were easily able to provide telemedicine visits throughout the pandemic ensuring that Jim retained access to the care team that had managed his cancer for several years at that point. This would not have been possible without the use of telemedicine – at least not without great effort and expense by Jim to make frequent trips to our Santa Monica clinic.

So, you can imagine my apprehension when I received an email the other day from our billing department, informing billing providers like myself that “telehealth visits are still covered through the end of the year.” While this initially seemed like reassuring news, it immediately begged the question – what happens at the end of the year? What will care look like for patients like Jim who live at a significant distance from their providers?

The end of the COVID-19 public health emergency on May 11 has prompted states to reevaluate the future of telehealth for Medicaid and Medicare recipients. Most states plan to make some telehealth services permanent, particularly in rural areas. While other telehealth services have been extended through Dec. 31, 2024, under the Consolidated Appropriations Act of 2023.

But still, I worry about the end of the telemedicine era because telehealth (or, “video visits”) has revolutionized outpatient palliative care delivery. We can now see very ill patients in their own homes without imposing an undue burden on them to come in for yet another office visit. Prior to the public health emergency, our embedded palliative care program would see patients only when they were in the oncology clinic so as to not burden them with having to travel to yet another clinic. This made our palliative providers less efficient since patients were being seen by multiple providers in the same space, which led to some time spent waiting around. It also frequently tied up our clinic exam rooms for long periods of time, delaying care for patients sitting in the waiting room.

Telehealth changed that virtually overnight. With the widespread availability of smartphones and tablets, patients could stay at home and speak more comfortably in their own surroundings – especially about the difficult topics we tend to dig into in palliative care – such as fears, suffering, grief, loss, legacy, regret, trauma, gratitude, dying – without the impersonal, aseptic environment of a clinic. We could visit with their family/caregivers, kids, and their pets. We could tour their living space and see how they were managing from a functional standpoint. We could get to know aspects of our patients’ lives that we’d never have seen in the clinic that could help us understand their goals and values better and help care for them more fully.

The benefit to the institution was also measurable. We could see our patients faster – the time from referral to consult dropped dramatically because patients could be scheduled for next-day virtual visits instead of having to wait for them to come back to an oncology visit. We could do quick symptom-focused visits that prior to telehealth would have been conducted by phone without the ability to perform at the very least an observational physical exam of the patient, which is important when prescribing medications to medically frail populations.
 

If telemedicine goes, how will it affect outpatient palliative care?

If that goes away, I do not know what will happen to outpatient palliative care. I can tell you we will be much less efficient in terms of when we see patients. There will probably be a higher clinic burden to patients, as well as higher financial toxicity to patients (Parking in the structure attached to my office building is $22 per day). And, what about the uncaptured costs associated with transportation for those whose illness prevents them from driving themselves? This can range from Uber costs to the time cost for a patient’s family member to take off work and arrange for childcare in order to drive the patient to a clinic for a visit.

In February, I received emails from the Drug Enforcement Agency suggesting that they, too, may roll back providers’ ability to prescribe controlled substances to patients who are mainly receiving telehealth services. While I understand and fully support the need to curb inappropriate overprescribing of controlled medications, I am concerned about the unintended consequences to cancer patients who live at a remote distance from their oncologists and palliative care providers. I remain hopeful that DEA will consider a carveout exception for those patients who have cancer, are receiving palliative care services, or are deemed to be at the end of life, much like the chronic opioid guidelines developed by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention have done.
 

Telemedicine in essential care

Back to Jim. Using telehealth and electronic prescribing, our oncology and palliative care programs were able to keep Jim comfortable and at home through the end of his life. He did not have to travel 3 hours each way to get care. He did not have to spend money on parking and gas, and his daughter did not have to take days off work and arrange for a babysitter in order to drive him to our clinic. We partnered with a local pharmacy that was willing to special order medications for Jim when his pain became worse and he required a long-acting opioid. We partnered with a local home health company that kept a close eye on Jim and let us know when he seemed to be declining further, prompting discussions about transitioning to hospice.

I’m proud of the fact that our group helped Jim stay in comfortable surroundings and out of the clinic and hospital over the last 6 months of his life, but that would never have happened without the safe and thoughtful use of telehealth by our team.

Ironically, because of a public health emergency, we were able to provide efficient and high-quality palliative care at the right time, to the right person, in the right place, satisfying CMS goals to provide better care for patients and whole populations at lower costs.

Ms. D’Ambruoso is a hospice and palliative care nurse practitioner for UCLA Health Cancer Care, Santa Monica, Calif.

I started taking care of Jim, a 68-year-old man with metastatic renal cell carcinoma back in the fall of 2018. Jim lived far from our clinic in the rural western Sierra Mountains and had a hard time getting to Santa Monica, but needed ongoing pain and symptom management, as well as follow-up visits with oncology and discussions with our teams about preparing for the end of life.

Luckily for Jim, the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services had relaxed the rules around telehealth because of the public health emergency, and we were easily able to provide telemedicine visits throughout the pandemic ensuring that Jim retained access to the care team that had managed his cancer for several years at that point. This would not have been possible without the use of telemedicine – at least not without great effort and expense by Jim to make frequent trips to our Santa Monica clinic.

So, you can imagine my apprehension when I received an email the other day from our billing department, informing billing providers like myself that “telehealth visits are still covered through the end of the year.” While this initially seemed like reassuring news, it immediately begged the question – what happens at the end of the year? What will care look like for patients like Jim who live at a significant distance from their providers?

The end of the COVID-19 public health emergency on May 11 has prompted states to reevaluate the future of telehealth for Medicaid and Medicare recipients. Most states plan to make some telehealth services permanent, particularly in rural areas. While other telehealth services have been extended through Dec. 31, 2024, under the Consolidated Appropriations Act of 2023.

But still, I worry about the end of the telemedicine era because telehealth (or, “video visits”) has revolutionized outpatient palliative care delivery. We can now see very ill patients in their own homes without imposing an undue burden on them to come in for yet another office visit. Prior to the public health emergency, our embedded palliative care program would see patients only when they were in the oncology clinic so as to not burden them with having to travel to yet another clinic. This made our palliative providers less efficient since patients were being seen by multiple providers in the same space, which led to some time spent waiting around. It also frequently tied up our clinic exam rooms for long periods of time, delaying care for patients sitting in the waiting room.

Telehealth changed that virtually overnight. With the widespread availability of smartphones and tablets, patients could stay at home and speak more comfortably in their own surroundings – especially about the difficult topics we tend to dig into in palliative care – such as fears, suffering, grief, loss, legacy, regret, trauma, gratitude, dying – without the impersonal, aseptic environment of a clinic. We could visit with their family/caregivers, kids, and their pets. We could tour their living space and see how they were managing from a functional standpoint. We could get to know aspects of our patients’ lives that we’d never have seen in the clinic that could help us understand their goals and values better and help care for them more fully.

The benefit to the institution was also measurable. We could see our patients faster – the time from referral to consult dropped dramatically because patients could be scheduled for next-day virtual visits instead of having to wait for them to come back to an oncology visit. We could do quick symptom-focused visits that prior to telehealth would have been conducted by phone without the ability to perform at the very least an observational physical exam of the patient, which is important when prescribing medications to medically frail populations.
 

If telemedicine goes, how will it affect outpatient palliative care?

If that goes away, I do not know what will happen to outpatient palliative care. I can tell you we will be much less efficient in terms of when we see patients. There will probably be a higher clinic burden to patients, as well as higher financial toxicity to patients (Parking in the structure attached to my office building is $22 per day). And, what about the uncaptured costs associated with transportation for those whose illness prevents them from driving themselves? This can range from Uber costs to the time cost for a patient’s family member to take off work and arrange for childcare in order to drive the patient to a clinic for a visit.

In February, I received emails from the Drug Enforcement Agency suggesting that they, too, may roll back providers’ ability to prescribe controlled substances to patients who are mainly receiving telehealth services. While I understand and fully support the need to curb inappropriate overprescribing of controlled medications, I am concerned about the unintended consequences to cancer patients who live at a remote distance from their oncologists and palliative care providers. I remain hopeful that DEA will consider a carveout exception for those patients who have cancer, are receiving palliative care services, or are deemed to be at the end of life, much like the chronic opioid guidelines developed by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention have done.
 

Telemedicine in essential care

Back to Jim. Using telehealth and electronic prescribing, our oncology and palliative care programs were able to keep Jim comfortable and at home through the end of his life. He did not have to travel 3 hours each way to get care. He did not have to spend money on parking and gas, and his daughter did not have to take days off work and arrange for a babysitter in order to drive him to our clinic. We partnered with a local pharmacy that was willing to special order medications for Jim when his pain became worse and he required a long-acting opioid. We partnered with a local home health company that kept a close eye on Jim and let us know when he seemed to be declining further, prompting discussions about transitioning to hospice.

I’m proud of the fact that our group helped Jim stay in comfortable surroundings and out of the clinic and hospital over the last 6 months of his life, but that would never have happened without the safe and thoughtful use of telehealth by our team.

Ironically, because of a public health emergency, we were able to provide efficient and high-quality palliative care at the right time, to the right person, in the right place, satisfying CMS goals to provide better care for patients and whole populations at lower costs.

Ms. D’Ambruoso is a hospice and palliative care nurse practitioner for UCLA Health Cancer Care, Santa Monica, Calif.

The highly favorable results of the CheckMate 816 trial of neoadjuvant chemotherapy plus nivolumab for resectable stage IB-IIIA non–small cell lung cancer (NSCLC) were impressive enough to prompt a Food and Drug Administration approval of this combination in March 2022.

For many, this led to a marked shift in how we approached these patients. But in my conversations with many care teams, they have expressed ambivalence about using the chemoimmunotherapy regimen. Some have conveyed to me that the lack of statistically significant improvement in overall survival is a sticking point. Others have expressed uncertainty about the true benefit of neoadjuvant chemotherapy alongside nivolumab for patients with earlier-stage disease, given that 64% of patients in the trial had stage IIIA disease. The benefit of the neoadjuvant combination in patients with low or negative tumor programmed death–ligand 1 (PD-L1) expression also remains a question mark, though the trial found no significant differences in outcomes by PD-L1 subset.

But among many of my colleagues who favor adjuvant over neoadjuvant therapy, it isn’t necessarily the fine points of the data that present the real barrier: it’s the sentiment that “we just don’t favor a neoadjuvant approach at my place.”

If the worry is that a subset of patients who are eligible for up-front surgery may be derailed from the operating room if they experience significant disease progression or a complication during preoperative therapy or that surgery will more difficult after chemoimmunotherapy, those concerns are not supported by evidence. In fact, data on surgical outcomes from CheckMate 816 assessing these issues found that surgery after chemoimmunotherapy was approximately 30 minutes faster than it was after chemotherapy alone. In addition, the combination neoadjuvant chemoimmunotherapy approach was associated with less extensive surgeries, particularly for patients with stage IIIA NSCLC, and patients experienced measurably lower reports of pain and dyspnea as well.

Though postoperative systemic therapy has been our general approach for resectable NSCLC for nearly 2 decades, there are several reasons to focus on neoadjuvant therapy.

First, immunotherapy may work more effectively when the tumor antigens as well as lymph nodes and lymphatic system are present in situ at the time.

Second, patients may be eager to complete their treatment within a 3-month period of just three cycles of systemic therapy followed by surgery rather than receiving their treatment over a prolonged chapter of their lives, starting with surgery followed by four cycles of chemotherapy and 1 year of immunotherapy. 

Finally, we can’t ignore the fact that most neoadjuvant therapy is delivered exactly as intended, whereas planned adjuvant therapy is often not started or rarely completed as designed. At most, only about half of appropriate patients for adjuvant chemotherapy even start it, and far less complete a full four cycles or go on to complete prolonged adjuvant immunotherapy.

We also can’t underestimate the value of imaging and pathology findings after patients have completed neoadjuvant therapy. The pathologic complete response rate in CheckMate 816 is predictive of improved event-free survival over time.

And that isn’t just a binary variable of achieving a pathologic complete response or not. The degree of residual, viable tumor after surgery is a continuous variable associated along a spectrum with event-free survival. Our colleagues who treat breast cancer have been able to customize postoperative therapy to improve outcomes on the basis of the results achieved with neoadjuvant therapy. Multidisciplinary gastrointestinal oncology teams have revolutionized outcomes with rectal cancer by transitioning to total neoadjuvant therapy that makes it possible to deliver treatment more reliably and pursue organ-sparing approaches while achieving better survival.

Putting all of this together, I appreciate arguments against the generalizability or the maturity of the data supporting neoadjuvant chemoimmunotherapy for resectable NSCLC. However, sidestepping our most promising advances will harm our patients. Plus, what’s the point of generating practice-changing results if we don’t accept and implement them?

We owe it to our patients to follow the evolving evidence and not just stick to what we’ve always done.

Dr. West is an associate professor at City of Hope Comprehensive Cancer Center in Duarte, Calif., and vice president of network strategy at AccessHope in Los Angeles. Dr. West serves as web editor for JAMA Oncology, edits and writes several sections on lung cancer for UpToDate, and leads a wide range of continuing medical education and other educational programs.

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

The highly favorable results of the CheckMate 816 trial of neoadjuvant chemotherapy plus nivolumab for resectable stage IB-IIIA non–small cell lung cancer (NSCLC) were impressive enough to prompt a Food and Drug Administration approval of this combination in March 2022.

For many, this led to a marked shift in how we approached these patients. But in my conversations with many care teams, they have expressed ambivalence about using the chemoimmunotherapy regimen. Some have conveyed to me that the lack of statistically significant improvement in overall survival is a sticking point. Others have expressed uncertainty about the true benefit of neoadjuvant chemotherapy alongside nivolumab for patients with earlier-stage disease, given that 64% of patients in the trial had stage IIIA disease. The benefit of the neoadjuvant combination in patients with low or negative tumor programmed death–ligand 1 (PD-L1) expression also remains a question mark, though the trial found no significant differences in outcomes by PD-L1 subset.

But among many of my colleagues who favor adjuvant over neoadjuvant therapy, it isn’t necessarily the fine points of the data that present the real barrier: it’s the sentiment that “we just don’t favor a neoadjuvant approach at my place.”

If the worry is that a subset of patients who are eligible for up-front surgery may be derailed from the operating room if they experience significant disease progression or a complication during preoperative therapy or that surgery will more difficult after chemoimmunotherapy, those concerns are not supported by evidence. In fact, data on surgical outcomes from CheckMate 816 assessing these issues found that surgery after chemoimmunotherapy was approximately 30 minutes faster than it was after chemotherapy alone. In addition, the combination neoadjuvant chemoimmunotherapy approach was associated with less extensive surgeries, particularly for patients with stage IIIA NSCLC, and patients experienced measurably lower reports of pain and dyspnea as well.

Though postoperative systemic therapy has been our general approach for resectable NSCLC for nearly 2 decades, there are several reasons to focus on neoadjuvant therapy.

First, immunotherapy may work more effectively when the tumor antigens as well as lymph nodes and lymphatic system are present in situ at the time.

Second, patients may be eager to complete their treatment within a 3-month period of just three cycles of systemic therapy followed by surgery rather than receiving their treatment over a prolonged chapter of their lives, starting with surgery followed by four cycles of chemotherapy and 1 year of immunotherapy. 

Finally, we can’t ignore the fact that most neoadjuvant therapy is delivered exactly as intended, whereas planned adjuvant therapy is often not started or rarely completed as designed. At most, only about half of appropriate patients for adjuvant chemotherapy even start it, and far less complete a full four cycles or go on to complete prolonged adjuvant immunotherapy.

We also can’t underestimate the value of imaging and pathology findings after patients have completed neoadjuvant therapy. The pathologic complete response rate in CheckMate 816 is predictive of improved event-free survival over time.

And that isn’t just a binary variable of achieving a pathologic complete response or not. The degree of residual, viable tumor after surgery is a continuous variable associated along a spectrum with event-free survival. Our colleagues who treat breast cancer have been able to customize postoperative therapy to improve outcomes on the basis of the results achieved with neoadjuvant therapy. Multidisciplinary gastrointestinal oncology teams have revolutionized outcomes with rectal cancer by transitioning to total neoadjuvant therapy that makes it possible to deliver treatment more reliably and pursue organ-sparing approaches while achieving better survival.

Putting all of this together, I appreciate arguments against the generalizability or the maturity of the data supporting neoadjuvant chemoimmunotherapy for resectable NSCLC. However, sidestepping our most promising advances will harm our patients. Plus, what’s the point of generating practice-changing results if we don’t accept and implement them?

We owe it to our patients to follow the evolving evidence and not just stick to what we’ve always done.

Dr. West is an associate professor at City of Hope Comprehensive Cancer Center in Duarte, Calif., and vice president of network strategy at AccessHope in Los Angeles. Dr. West serves as web editor for JAMA Oncology, edits and writes several sections on lung cancer for UpToDate, and leads a wide range of continuing medical education and other educational programs.

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

The highly favorable results of the CheckMate 816 trial of neoadjuvant chemotherapy plus nivolumab for resectable stage IB-IIIA non–small cell lung cancer (NSCLC) were impressive enough to prompt a Food and Drug Administration approval of this combination in March 2022.

For many, this led to a marked shift in how we approached these patients. But in my conversations with many care teams, they have expressed ambivalence about using the chemoimmunotherapy regimen. Some have conveyed to me that the lack of statistically significant improvement in overall survival is a sticking point. Others have expressed uncertainty about the true benefit of neoadjuvant chemotherapy alongside nivolumab for patients with earlier-stage disease, given that 64% of patients in the trial had stage IIIA disease. The benefit of the neoadjuvant combination in patients with low or negative tumor programmed death–ligand 1 (PD-L1) expression also remains a question mark, though the trial found no significant differences in outcomes by PD-L1 subset.

But among many of my colleagues who favor adjuvant over neoadjuvant therapy, it isn’t necessarily the fine points of the data that present the real barrier: it’s the sentiment that “we just don’t favor a neoadjuvant approach at my place.”

If the worry is that a subset of patients who are eligible for up-front surgery may be derailed from the operating room if they experience significant disease progression or a complication during preoperative therapy or that surgery will more difficult after chemoimmunotherapy, those concerns are not supported by evidence. In fact, data on surgical outcomes from CheckMate 816 assessing these issues found that surgery after chemoimmunotherapy was approximately 30 minutes faster than it was after chemotherapy alone. In addition, the combination neoadjuvant chemoimmunotherapy approach was associated with less extensive surgeries, particularly for patients with stage IIIA NSCLC, and patients experienced measurably lower reports of pain and dyspnea as well.

Though postoperative systemic therapy has been our general approach for resectable NSCLC for nearly 2 decades, there are several reasons to focus on neoadjuvant therapy.

First, immunotherapy may work more effectively when the tumor antigens as well as lymph nodes and lymphatic system are present in situ at the time.

Second, patients may be eager to complete their treatment within a 3-month period of just three cycles of systemic therapy followed by surgery rather than receiving their treatment over a prolonged chapter of their lives, starting with surgery followed by four cycles of chemotherapy and 1 year of immunotherapy. 

Finally, we can’t ignore the fact that most neoadjuvant therapy is delivered exactly as intended, whereas planned adjuvant therapy is often not started or rarely completed as designed. At most, only about half of appropriate patients for adjuvant chemotherapy even start it, and far less complete a full four cycles or go on to complete prolonged adjuvant immunotherapy.

We also can’t underestimate the value of imaging and pathology findings after patients have completed neoadjuvant therapy. The pathologic complete response rate in CheckMate 816 is predictive of improved event-free survival over time.

And that isn’t just a binary variable of achieving a pathologic complete response or not. The degree of residual, viable tumor after surgery is a continuous variable associated along a spectrum with event-free survival. Our colleagues who treat breast cancer have been able to customize postoperative therapy to improve outcomes on the basis of the results achieved with neoadjuvant therapy. Multidisciplinary gastrointestinal oncology teams have revolutionized outcomes with rectal cancer by transitioning to total neoadjuvant therapy that makes it possible to deliver treatment more reliably and pursue organ-sparing approaches while achieving better survival.

Putting all of this together, I appreciate arguments against the generalizability or the maturity of the data supporting neoadjuvant chemoimmunotherapy for resectable NSCLC. However, sidestepping our most promising advances will harm our patients. Plus, what’s the point of generating practice-changing results if we don’t accept and implement them?

We owe it to our patients to follow the evolving evidence and not just stick to what we’ve always done.

Dr. West is an associate professor at City of Hope Comprehensive Cancer Center in Duarte, Calif., and vice president of network strategy at AccessHope in Los Angeles. Dr. West serves as web editor for JAMA Oncology, edits and writes several sections on lung cancer for UpToDate, and leads a wide range of continuing medical education and other educational programs.

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

We are currently on the verge of yet another societal “revolution” that will exert an unprecedented impact on our lives. It may surpass prior seismic cultural breakthroughs like the internet, smartphones, and social media. Artificial intelligence (AI) has been fermenting for several decades, gathering steam to become equivalent (and eventually superior) to human intelligence. The escalation of AI sophistication will be jarring and perhaps change human life in completely unpredictable ways.

Composing thoughts into words and coherent sentences has always been a uniquely human attribute among all living organisms. Now, that sublime feature of the human mind is being simulated, thanks to advances in AI software, ironically created by the human mind itself! On November 30, 2022, Open AI introduced ChatGPT (generative pre-trained transformer), which can generate an article on any topic a user requests. Within a few weeks, it was used by more than 100 million people. ChatGPT is taking the world by storm because it is a harbinger (some pessimists may label it an omen) of how human existence will be radically impacted in the future. Such AI breakthroughs to surpass human intelligence are, ironically, the product of the advanced human brain, which I previously described as concurrently a triumph and a blunder by evolution.¹

How we got here, and what’s next

ChatGPT is a large language model based on neural networks.² It generates realistic text responses to a wide range of questions by mimicking the pattern of language in gargantuan online databases. One Hong Kong–based, AI-powered drug discovery company (Insilico Medicine) declared it published articles generated by AI tools, even before ChatGPT became available. This indicates how AI can be misused in scientific publications and may be hard to detect as a new form of plagiarism.³

The roots of AI date back to the 1950s, when Alan Turing, now considered the father of AI, published a seminal article about creating a machine to “imitate the brain” and to “mimic the behavior of the human.”⁴ The term “artificial intelligence” was coined in 1989 by McCarthy,⁵ who defined it as “the science of engineering for making intelligent machines.” Since then, several subsets of AI have been developed:

• Machine learning: The study of computer algorithms to generate hypotheses
• Deep learning: A type of machine learning algorithm that uses multiple layers to progressively extract higher-level features from raw input. (Both machine learning and deep learning are used in the burgeoning fields of computational psychiatry⁶ and neuroscience research⁷)
• Expert knowledge system: A computer-based system that mimics human decision-making ability
• Neural networks: An interconnected group of artificial neurons that uses a math or computer model for information processing
• Predictive analytics: An algorithm to predict future outcomes based on historical data.

These subsets of AI have been used to identify psychiatric disorders using neuroimaging data⁸ and to classify brain disorders.⁹ There are many potential uses of AI in psychiatry.^10,11 My first experience with AI was 13 years ago, when we conducted a project to distinguish fake suicide notes from genuine ones.¹² AI was more successful in correctly identifying fake notes (78% correctly detected) than senior psychiatric residents (49%) or even faculty (53%).

AI will dramatically change how humans interact with the world and may lead to enhanced creativity and new explorations and forays into novel, previously unknown horizons. It is expected to significantly boost the global economy by many trillions of dollars over the next decade. Major high-tech companies are vigorously competing to develop their own AI tools like ChatGPT (Microsoft invested $10 billion in Open AI). Google, which owns DeepMind (an AI lab that invented the T in GPT) developed its own chatbot called Bard. Amazon has invested heavily in Stability AI by giving its founder and CEO Emad Mostaque 4,000 Nvidia AI chips to assemble the world’s largest supercomputer (1 year ago, Stability had only 32 AI chips!). Apple recently integrated Stable Diffusion into its latest operating system. Chinese tech giants Alibaba and Baidu also announced their own chatbots to be released soon.

Other competitors include Cohere, Hugging Face, Midjourney, GitHub Copilot, Game Changer, Jasper, and Anthropic, which released Claude as its chatbot at a lower cost than ChatGPT. Open AI also developed Dall-E2 in April 2022, which can generate very realistic images from text, one of which recently won an award at an art competition.

Continue to: One of the major...

One of the major concerns about these AI developments is that chatbots can make errors or disseminate misinformation and even enunciate racist or misogynist statements. The greatest worry is that the ultimate implicit goal of AI is what is called artificial general intelligence (AGI), which can think and learn better than humans. Some fear AGI may wipe out humans as a species, a grave outcome indeed. That’s why AI developers intend to align AGI with “basic human values” in the event it surpasses human intelligence. Some are even calling for a transition from AI to AW (artificial wisdom), with built-in empathy, kindness, self-reflection, acceptance of diverse perspectives, and promotion of prosocial ideas.¹³

Creating content: artificial intelligence vs human authors

ChatGPT has opened a Pandora’s box of concern about potential plagiarism by students or scientific authors. This has prompted several journals,¹⁴ including Current Psychiatry, to establish policies regarding the use of AI (see “A ‘guest editorial’ … generated by ChatGPT?”). To give readers additional concrete examples of the quality of articles generated by ChatGPT and to highlight the differences between text created by AI vs a human, I asked it to write articles on the same 4 topics on which I had written articles for Current Psychiatry:

• Anosognosia in schizophrenia (Box 1); based on “Is anosognosia a delusion, a negative symptom, or a cognitive deficit?” Current Psychiatry, January 2022, p. 6-8,14. doi: 10.12788/cp.0210
• Benefits of metformin in psychiatry (Box 2); based on “Beyond diabetes: The beneficial uses of metformin in psychiatry,” Current Psychiatry, March 2022, p. 7-9. doi: 10.12788/cp.0225
• Epidemic of intellectual constipation (Box 3); based on “From debate to stalemate and hate: An epidemic of intellectual constipation,” Current Psychiatry, January 2023, p. 3-4. doi: 10.12788/cp.0321
• SWOT analysis of psychiatry (Box 4); based on “Contemporary psychiatry: A SWOT analysis,” Current Psychiatry, January 2023, p. 16-19,27. doi: 10.12788/cp.0320.

These ChatGPT articles are verbatim as generated, without any copyediting, fact-checking, or addition of reference citations. One can easily notice that while factually acceptable, the ChatGPT articles tend to be rather synthetic, simple, bland, and lacking creative language or going beyond the facts to express personal viewpoints. However, I have no doubt that future versions of ChatGPT or other chatbots will evolve into far more sophisticated products and may match what a human can compose in terms of quality and complexity.

AI has arrived with a bang. Going forward, I predict it will continue to surprise us, with elements of “future shock.” The credit (or blame) belongs to the boundless creativity of human intelligence that is seeking to invent an intelligence higher than its own. Caveat emptor!

Box 1

Box 2

Box 3

Box 4

We are currently on the verge of yet another societal “revolution” that will exert an unprecedented impact on our lives. It may surpass prior seismic cultural breakthroughs like the internet, smartphones, and social media. Artificial intelligence (AI) has been fermenting for several decades, gathering steam to become equivalent (and eventually superior) to human intelligence. The escalation of AI sophistication will be jarring and perhaps change human life in completely unpredictable ways.

Composing thoughts into words and coherent sentences has always been a uniquely human attribute among all living organisms. Now, that sublime feature of the human mind is being simulated, thanks to advances in AI software, ironically created by the human mind itself! On November 30, 2022, Open AI introduced ChatGPT (generative pre-trained transformer), which can generate an article on any topic a user requests. Within a few weeks, it was used by more than 100 million people. ChatGPT is taking the world by storm because it is a harbinger (some pessimists may label it an omen) of how human existence will be radically impacted in the future. Such AI breakthroughs to surpass human intelligence are, ironically, the product of the advanced human brain, which I previously described as concurrently a triumph and a blunder by evolution.¹

How we got here, and what’s next

ChatGPT is a large language model based on neural networks.² It generates realistic text responses to a wide range of questions by mimicking the pattern of language in gargantuan online databases. One Hong Kong–based, AI-powered drug discovery company (Insilico Medicine) declared it published articles generated by AI tools, even before ChatGPT became available. This indicates how AI can be misused in scientific publications and may be hard to detect as a new form of plagiarism.³

The roots of AI date back to the 1950s, when Alan Turing, now considered the father of AI, published a seminal article about creating a machine to “imitate the brain” and to “mimic the behavior of the human.”⁴ The term “artificial intelligence” was coined in 1989 by McCarthy,⁵ who defined it as “the science of engineering for making intelligent machines.” Since then, several subsets of AI have been developed:

• Machine learning: The study of computer algorithms to generate hypotheses
• Deep learning: A type of machine learning algorithm that uses multiple layers to progressively extract higher-level features from raw input. (Both machine learning and deep learning are used in the burgeoning fields of computational psychiatry⁶ and neuroscience research⁷)
• Expert knowledge system: A computer-based system that mimics human decision-making ability
• Neural networks: An interconnected group of artificial neurons that uses a math or computer model for information processing
• Predictive analytics: An algorithm to predict future outcomes based on historical data.

These subsets of AI have been used to identify psychiatric disorders using neuroimaging data⁸ and to classify brain disorders.⁹ There are many potential uses of AI in psychiatry.^10,11 My first experience with AI was 13 years ago, when we conducted a project to distinguish fake suicide notes from genuine ones.¹² AI was more successful in correctly identifying fake notes (78% correctly detected) than senior psychiatric residents (49%) or even faculty (53%).

AI will dramatically change how humans interact with the world and may lead to enhanced creativity and new explorations and forays into novel, previously unknown horizons. It is expected to significantly boost the global economy by many trillions of dollars over the next decade. Major high-tech companies are vigorously competing to develop their own AI tools like ChatGPT (Microsoft invested $10 billion in Open AI). Google, which owns DeepMind (an AI lab that invented the T in GPT) developed its own chatbot called Bard. Amazon has invested heavily in Stability AI by giving its founder and CEO Emad Mostaque 4,000 Nvidia AI chips to assemble the world’s largest supercomputer (1 year ago, Stability had only 32 AI chips!). Apple recently integrated Stable Diffusion into its latest operating system. Chinese tech giants Alibaba and Baidu also announced their own chatbots to be released soon.

Other competitors include Cohere, Hugging Face, Midjourney, GitHub Copilot, Game Changer, Jasper, and Anthropic, which released Claude as its chatbot at a lower cost than ChatGPT. Open AI also developed Dall-E2 in April 2022, which can generate very realistic images from text, one of which recently won an award at an art competition.

Continue to: One of the major...

One of the major concerns about these AI developments is that chatbots can make errors or disseminate misinformation and even enunciate racist or misogynist statements. The greatest worry is that the ultimate implicit goal of AI is what is called artificial general intelligence (AGI), which can think and learn better than humans. Some fear AGI may wipe out humans as a species, a grave outcome indeed. That’s why AI developers intend to align AGI with “basic human values” in the event it surpasses human intelligence. Some are even calling for a transition from AI to AW (artificial wisdom), with built-in empathy, kindness, self-reflection, acceptance of diverse perspectives, and promotion of prosocial ideas.¹³

Creating content: artificial intelligence vs human authors

ChatGPT has opened a Pandora’s box of concern about potential plagiarism by students or scientific authors. This has prompted several journals,¹⁴ including Current Psychiatry, to establish policies regarding the use of AI (see “A ‘guest editorial’ … generated by ChatGPT?”). To give readers additional concrete examples of the quality of articles generated by ChatGPT and to highlight the differences between text created by AI vs a human, I asked it to write articles on the same 4 topics on which I had written articles for Current Psychiatry:

• Anosognosia in schizophrenia (Box 1); based on “Is anosognosia a delusion, a negative symptom, or a cognitive deficit?” Current Psychiatry, January 2022, p. 6-8,14. doi: 10.12788/cp.0210
• Benefits of metformin in psychiatry (Box 2); based on “Beyond diabetes: The beneficial uses of metformin in psychiatry,” Current Psychiatry, March 2022, p. 7-9. doi: 10.12788/cp.0225
• Epidemic of intellectual constipation (Box 3); based on “From debate to stalemate and hate: An epidemic of intellectual constipation,” Current Psychiatry, January 2023, p. 3-4. doi: 10.12788/cp.0321
• SWOT analysis of psychiatry (Box 4); based on “Contemporary psychiatry: A SWOT analysis,” Current Psychiatry, January 2023, p. 16-19,27. doi: 10.12788/cp.0320.

These ChatGPT articles are verbatim as generated, without any copyediting, fact-checking, or addition of reference citations. One can easily notice that while factually acceptable, the ChatGPT articles tend to be rather synthetic, simple, bland, and lacking creative language or going beyond the facts to express personal viewpoints. However, I have no doubt that future versions of ChatGPT or other chatbots will evolve into far more sophisticated products and may match what a human can compose in terms of quality and complexity.

AI has arrived with a bang. Going forward, I predict it will continue to surprise us, with elements of “future shock.” The credit (or blame) belongs to the boundless creativity of human intelligence that is seeking to invent an intelligence higher than its own. Caveat emptor!

Box 1

Box 2

Box 3

Box 4

We are currently on the verge of yet another societal “revolution” that will exert an unprecedented impact on our lives. It may surpass prior seismic cultural breakthroughs like the internet, smartphones, and social media. Artificial intelligence (AI) has been fermenting for several decades, gathering steam to become equivalent (and eventually superior) to human intelligence. The escalation of AI sophistication will be jarring and perhaps change human life in completely unpredictable ways.

Composing thoughts into words and coherent sentences has always been a uniquely human attribute among all living organisms. Now, that sublime feature of the human mind is being simulated, thanks to advances in AI software, ironically created by the human mind itself! On November 30, 2022, Open AI introduced ChatGPT (generative pre-trained transformer), which can generate an article on any topic a user requests. Within a few weeks, it was used by more than 100 million people. ChatGPT is taking the world by storm because it is a harbinger (some pessimists may label it an omen) of how human existence will be radically impacted in the future. Such AI breakthroughs to surpass human intelligence are, ironically, the product of the advanced human brain, which I previously described as concurrently a triumph and a blunder by evolution.¹

How we got here, and what’s next

ChatGPT is a large language model based on neural networks.² It generates realistic text responses to a wide range of questions by mimicking the pattern of language in gargantuan online databases. One Hong Kong–based, AI-powered drug discovery company (Insilico Medicine) declared it published articles generated by AI tools, even before ChatGPT became available. This indicates how AI can be misused in scientific publications and may be hard to detect as a new form of plagiarism.³

The roots of AI date back to the 1950s, when Alan Turing, now considered the father of AI, published a seminal article about creating a machine to “imitate the brain” and to “mimic the behavior of the human.”⁴ The term “artificial intelligence” was coined in 1989 by McCarthy,⁵ who defined it as “the science of engineering for making intelligent machines.” Since then, several subsets of AI have been developed:

• Machine learning: The study of computer algorithms to generate hypotheses
• Deep learning: A type of machine learning algorithm that uses multiple layers to progressively extract higher-level features from raw input. (Both machine learning and deep learning are used in the burgeoning fields of computational psychiatry⁶ and neuroscience research⁷)
• Expert knowledge system: A computer-based system that mimics human decision-making ability
• Neural networks: An interconnected group of artificial neurons that uses a math or computer model for information processing
• Predictive analytics: An algorithm to predict future outcomes based on historical data.

These subsets of AI have been used to identify psychiatric disorders using neuroimaging data⁸ and to classify brain disorders.⁹ There are many potential uses of AI in psychiatry.^10,11 My first experience with AI was 13 years ago, when we conducted a project to distinguish fake suicide notes from genuine ones.¹² AI was more successful in correctly identifying fake notes (78% correctly detected) than senior psychiatric residents (49%) or even faculty (53%).

AI will dramatically change how humans interact with the world and may lead to enhanced creativity and new explorations and forays into novel, previously unknown horizons. It is expected to significantly boost the global economy by many trillions of dollars over the next decade. Major high-tech companies are vigorously competing to develop their own AI tools like ChatGPT (Microsoft invested $10 billion in Open AI). Google, which owns DeepMind (an AI lab that invented the T in GPT) developed its own chatbot called Bard. Amazon has invested heavily in Stability AI by giving its founder and CEO Emad Mostaque 4,000 Nvidia AI chips to assemble the world’s largest supercomputer (1 year ago, Stability had only 32 AI chips!). Apple recently integrated Stable Diffusion into its latest operating system. Chinese tech giants Alibaba and Baidu also announced their own chatbots to be released soon.

Other competitors include Cohere, Hugging Face, Midjourney, GitHub Copilot, Game Changer, Jasper, and Anthropic, which released Claude as its chatbot at a lower cost than ChatGPT. Open AI also developed Dall-E2 in April 2022, which can generate very realistic images from text, one of which recently won an award at an art competition.

Continue to: One of the major...

One of the major concerns about these AI developments is that chatbots can make errors or disseminate misinformation and even enunciate racist or misogynist statements. The greatest worry is that the ultimate implicit goal of AI is what is called artificial general intelligence (AGI), which can think and learn better than humans. Some fear AGI may wipe out humans as a species, a grave outcome indeed. That’s why AI developers intend to align AGI with “basic human values” in the event it surpasses human intelligence. Some are even calling for a transition from AI to AW (artificial wisdom), with built-in empathy, kindness, self-reflection, acceptance of diverse perspectives, and promotion of prosocial ideas.¹³

Creating content: artificial intelligence vs human authors

ChatGPT has opened a Pandora’s box of concern about potential plagiarism by students or scientific authors. This has prompted several journals,¹⁴ including Current Psychiatry, to establish policies regarding the use of AI (see “A ‘guest editorial’ … generated by ChatGPT?”). To give readers additional concrete examples of the quality of articles generated by ChatGPT and to highlight the differences between text created by AI vs a human, I asked it to write articles on the same 4 topics on which I had written articles for Current Psychiatry:

• Anosognosia in schizophrenia (Box 1); based on “Is anosognosia a delusion, a negative symptom, or a cognitive deficit?” Current Psychiatry, January 2022, p. 6-8,14. doi: 10.12788/cp.0210
• Benefits of metformin in psychiatry (Box 2); based on “Beyond diabetes: The beneficial uses of metformin in psychiatry,” Current Psychiatry, March 2022, p. 7-9. doi: 10.12788/cp.0225
• Epidemic of intellectual constipation (Box 3); based on “From debate to stalemate and hate: An epidemic of intellectual constipation,” Current Psychiatry, January 2023, p. 3-4. doi: 10.12788/cp.0321
• SWOT analysis of psychiatry (Box 4); based on “Contemporary psychiatry: A SWOT analysis,” Current Psychiatry, January 2023, p. 16-19,27. doi: 10.12788/cp.0320.

These ChatGPT articles are verbatim as generated, without any copyediting, fact-checking, or addition of reference citations. One can easily notice that while factually acceptable, the ChatGPT articles tend to be rather synthetic, simple, bland, and lacking creative language or going beyond the facts to express personal viewpoints. However, I have no doubt that future versions of ChatGPT or other chatbots will evolve into far more sophisticated products and may match what a human can compose in terms of quality and complexity.

AI has arrived with a bang. Going forward, I predict it will continue to surprise us, with elements of “future shock.” The credit (or blame) belongs to the boundless creativity of human intelligence that is seeking to invent an intelligence higher than its own. Caveat emptor!

Box 1

Box 2

Box 3

Box 4

The artificial intelligence (AI) program ChatGPT (generative pre-trained transformer) was introduced to the public by Open AI on November 30, 2022. It has been described as a game-changer for society, culture, literature, arts, and science, with a potential impact that rivals that of the internet and social media.

ChatGPT can produce human-like essays in response to queries. Some researchers used ChatGPT to generate abstracts based on the titles of articles published in 5 high-impact journals. These abstracts were so “real” that they escaped detection by expert peer reviewers in 32% of cases.¹ In addition, several medical/science articles were published that included ChatGPT as a bylined author.²

Like other journals,^3-7 CURRENT PSYCHIATRY is drafting guidelines regarding authors’ use of AI-generated content (see www.mdedge.com/currentpsychiatry/page/submission-guidelines). Although these guidelines remained a work in progress as we went to press in mid-March 2023, similar to the policies of other journals, CURRENT PSYCHIATRY’s policy will be predicated on 4 principles:

• Nonhuman AI technologies do not qualify for named authorship.
• Authors should be transparent about the use of AI technologies to aid in writing content. Authors should disclose which tool was used and how it was applied in the article submitted to the journal.
• Human authors are responsible for the accuracy of work compiled by an AI tool, including the absence of plagiarism. Proper referencing of statements is necessary.
• Images created by AI tools are not permitted for publication.

Because the overwhelming majority of articles published in Current Psychiatry are submitted by invitation, the use of AI will be discussed before the article is written.

Can AI generate an acceptable ‘guest editorial?’

In addition to creating formulaic writing, some of the concerns about using AI in scientific publishing is that the results might be outdated, incorrect, or lacking appropriate references, and that it can produce “plausible-sounding but incorrect or nonsensical” answers to questions.³ To test this, I asked ChatGPT to write an article on the same topic as 4 of my articles published in Current Psychiatry so the differences can be discerned (see “For artificial intelligence, the future is finally here”). Also, I asked ChatGPT about “myths surrounding psychiatry” and then used the result as a “guest editorial.” The Box is what it produced verbatim, without any copyediting, fact-checking, or addition of reference citations.

Box

What do you think? I encourage you to send me your take on this AI-generated “guest editorial,” and whether you deem its quality to be similar to that of an article authored by a human psychiatrist.

The artificial intelligence (AI) program ChatGPT (generative pre-trained transformer) was introduced to the public by Open AI on November 30, 2022. It has been described as a game-changer for society, culture, literature, arts, and science, with a potential impact that rivals that of the internet and social media.

ChatGPT can produce human-like essays in response to queries. Some researchers used ChatGPT to generate abstracts based on the titles of articles published in 5 high-impact journals. These abstracts were so “real” that they escaped detection by expert peer reviewers in 32% of cases.¹ In addition, several medical/science articles were published that included ChatGPT as a bylined author.²

Like other journals,^3-7 CURRENT PSYCHIATRY is drafting guidelines regarding authors’ use of AI-generated content (see www.mdedge.com/currentpsychiatry/page/submission-guidelines). Although these guidelines remained a work in progress as we went to press in mid-March 2023, similar to the policies of other journals, CURRENT PSYCHIATRY’s policy will be predicated on 4 principles:

• Nonhuman AI technologies do not qualify for named authorship.
• Authors should be transparent about the use of AI technologies to aid in writing content. Authors should disclose which tool was used and how it was applied in the article submitted to the journal.
• Human authors are responsible for the accuracy of work compiled by an AI tool, including the absence of plagiarism. Proper referencing of statements is necessary.
• Images created by AI tools are not permitted for publication.

Because the overwhelming majority of articles published in Current Psychiatry are submitted by invitation, the use of AI will be discussed before the article is written.

Can AI generate an acceptable ‘guest editorial?’

In addition to creating formulaic writing, some of the concerns about using AI in scientific publishing is that the results might be outdated, incorrect, or lacking appropriate references, and that it can produce “plausible-sounding but incorrect or nonsensical” answers to questions.³ To test this, I asked ChatGPT to write an article on the same topic as 4 of my articles published in Current Psychiatry so the differences can be discerned (see “For artificial intelligence, the future is finally here”). Also, I asked ChatGPT about “myths surrounding psychiatry” and then used the result as a “guest editorial.” The Box is what it produced verbatim, without any copyediting, fact-checking, or addition of reference citations.

Box

What do you think? I encourage you to send me your take on this AI-generated “guest editorial,” and whether you deem its quality to be similar to that of an article authored by a human psychiatrist.

The artificial intelligence (AI) program ChatGPT (generative pre-trained transformer) was introduced to the public by Open AI on November 30, 2022. It has been described as a game-changer for society, culture, literature, arts, and science, with a potential impact that rivals that of the internet and social media.

ChatGPT can produce human-like essays in response to queries. Some researchers used ChatGPT to generate abstracts based on the titles of articles published in 5 high-impact journals. These abstracts were so “real” that they escaped detection by expert peer reviewers in 32% of cases.¹ In addition, several medical/science articles were published that included ChatGPT as a bylined author.²

Like other journals,^3-7 CURRENT PSYCHIATRY is drafting guidelines regarding authors’ use of AI-generated content (see www.mdedge.com/currentpsychiatry/page/submission-guidelines). Although these guidelines remained a work in progress as we went to press in mid-March 2023, similar to the policies of other journals, CURRENT PSYCHIATRY’s policy will be predicated on 4 principles:

• Nonhuman AI technologies do not qualify for named authorship.
• Authors should be transparent about the use of AI technologies to aid in writing content. Authors should disclose which tool was used and how it was applied in the article submitted to the journal.
• Human authors are responsible for the accuracy of work compiled by an AI tool, including the absence of plagiarism. Proper referencing of statements is necessary.
• Images created by AI tools are not permitted for publication.

Because the overwhelming majority of articles published in Current Psychiatry are submitted by invitation, the use of AI will be discussed before the article is written.

Can AI generate an acceptable ‘guest editorial?’

In addition to creating formulaic writing, some of the concerns about using AI in scientific publishing is that the results might be outdated, incorrect, or lacking appropriate references, and that it can produce “plausible-sounding but incorrect or nonsensical” answers to questions.³ To test this, I asked ChatGPT to write an article on the same topic as 4 of my articles published in Current Psychiatry so the differences can be discerned (see “For artificial intelligence, the future is finally here”). Also, I asked ChatGPT about “myths surrounding psychiatry” and then used the result as a “guest editorial.” The Box is what it produced verbatim, without any copyediting, fact-checking, or addition of reference citations.

Box

What do you think? I encourage you to send me your take on this AI-generated “guest editorial,” and whether you deem its quality to be similar to that of an article authored by a human psychiatrist.

I enjoyed reading the optimistic outlook for psychiatry outlined in your SWOT analysis (“Contemporary psychiatry: A SWOT analysis,” Current Psychiatry, January 2023, p. 16-19,27, doi:10.12788/cp.0320). I agree with the challenges ahead, including the challenge of keeping up with the explosion of knowledge in relation to the brain, emotions, and the complex interactions of genetics, environment, and biology. I’m excited by the movements in psychopharmacology, which hold promises for new, more effective, less toxic treatments for some of our most challenging disorders.

I think, though, you misplaced an opportunity as a threat in your assessment that the increase in the amount of advanced practice psychiatric nurses (PMHAPRNs) presents a threat to psychiatry. The presence of an increased number of PMHAPRNs provides access to a larger number of people needing treatment by qualified, skilled mental health professionals and an opportunity for psychiatrists to participate in highly effective teams of psychiatric clinicians. This workforce-building is of particular importance during our current clinician shortage, especially within psychiatry. Most research has shown that advanced practice nurses’ quality of care is competitive with that of physicians with similar experience, and that patient satisfaction is high. Advanced practice nurses are more likely than physicians to provide care in underserved populations and in rural communities. We are educated to practice independently within our scope, to standards established by our professional organizations as well as American Psychiatric Association (APA) clinical guidelines. I hope you will reconsider your view of your PMHAPRN colleagues as a threat and see them as a positive contribution to your chosen field of psychiatry, like the APA has shown in their choice of including a PMHAPRN as a clinical expert team member on the SMI Adviser initiative.

Stella Logan, APRN, PMHCNS-BC, PMHNP-BC
Austin, Texas

Dr. Nasrallah responds

Thank you for your letter regarding my SWOT article. It was originally written for the newsletter of the Ohio Psychiatric Physicians Association, comprised of 1,000 psychiatrists. To them, nurse practitioners (NPs) are regarded as a threat because some mental health care systems have been laying off psychiatrists and hiring NPs to lower costs. This obviously is perceived as a threat. I do agree with you that well-qualified NPs are providing needed mental health services in underserved areas (eg, inner cities and rural areas), where it is very difficult to recruit psychiatrists due to the severe shortage nationally.

Henry A. Nasrallah, MD, DLFAPA
Editor-in-Chief

Continue to: More on the transdiagnostic model

 

 

More on the transdiagnostic model

I just had the pleasure of reading your February 2023 editorial (“Depression and schizophrenia: Many biological and clinical similarities,” Current Psychiatry, February 2023, p. 3-5, doi:10.12788/cp.0331) and it was truly wonderful. For years it has seemed to me that the somewhat unnatural divisions in psychiatry with respect to diagnosis were a necessary evil, for numerous reasons. It seems the tide is turning, however, and for those of us who have always afforded a primacy to treating a patient’s symptoms rather than a diagnosis in a book, it seems the research is at last supporting that approach. Your points about insurance companies and the mendacity and cupidity that underlies their policies are very well stated. Thank you for another excellent, timely, and eloquent editorial!

David Krassner, MD
Phoenix, Arizona

I completely agree with your promotion of a unified transdiagnostic model. All of this makes sense on the continuum of consciousness—restricted consciousness represents fear, whereas wide consciousness represents complete connectivity (love in the spiritual sense). Therefore, a threat not resolved can lead to defeat and an unresolved painful defeat can lead to a psychotic projection. Is it no surprise, then, that a medication such as quetiapine can treat the whole continuum from anxiety at low doses to psychosis at high doses?

Mike Primc, MD
Chardon, Ohio

I enjoyed reading the optimistic outlook for psychiatry outlined in your SWOT analysis (“Contemporary psychiatry: A SWOT analysis,” Current Psychiatry, January 2023, p. 16-19,27, doi:10.12788/cp.0320). I agree with the challenges ahead, including the challenge of keeping up with the explosion of knowledge in relation to the brain, emotions, and the complex interactions of genetics, environment, and biology. I’m excited by the movements in psychopharmacology, which hold promises for new, more effective, less toxic treatments for some of our most challenging disorders.

I think, though, you misplaced an opportunity as a threat in your assessment that the increase in the amount of advanced practice psychiatric nurses (PMHAPRNs) presents a threat to psychiatry. The presence of an increased number of PMHAPRNs provides access to a larger number of people needing treatment by qualified, skilled mental health professionals and an opportunity for psychiatrists to participate in highly effective teams of psychiatric clinicians. This workforce-building is of particular importance during our current clinician shortage, especially within psychiatry. Most research has shown that advanced practice nurses’ quality of care is competitive with that of physicians with similar experience, and that patient satisfaction is high. Advanced practice nurses are more likely than physicians to provide care in underserved populations and in rural communities. We are educated to practice independently within our scope, to standards established by our professional organizations as well as American Psychiatric Association (APA) clinical guidelines. I hope you will reconsider your view of your PMHAPRN colleagues as a threat and see them as a positive contribution to your chosen field of psychiatry, like the APA has shown in their choice of including a PMHAPRN as a clinical expert team member on the SMI Adviser initiative.

Stella Logan, APRN, PMHCNS-BC, PMHNP-BC
Austin, Texas

Dr. Nasrallah responds

Thank you for your letter regarding my SWOT article. It was originally written for the newsletter of the Ohio Psychiatric Physicians Association, comprised of 1,000 psychiatrists. To them, nurse practitioners (NPs) are regarded as a threat because some mental health care systems have been laying off psychiatrists and hiring NPs to lower costs. This obviously is perceived as a threat. I do agree with you that well-qualified NPs are providing needed mental health services in underserved areas (eg, inner cities and rural areas), where it is very difficult to recruit psychiatrists due to the severe shortage nationally.

Henry A. Nasrallah, MD, DLFAPA
Editor-in-Chief

Continue to: More on the transdiagnostic model

 

 

More on the transdiagnostic model

I just had the pleasure of reading your February 2023 editorial (“Depression and schizophrenia: Many biological and clinical similarities,” Current Psychiatry, February 2023, p. 3-5, doi:10.12788/cp.0331) and it was truly wonderful. For years it has seemed to me that the somewhat unnatural divisions in psychiatry with respect to diagnosis were a necessary evil, for numerous reasons. It seems the tide is turning, however, and for those of us who have always afforded a primacy to treating a patient’s symptoms rather than a diagnosis in a book, it seems the research is at last supporting that approach. Your points about insurance companies and the mendacity and cupidity that underlies their policies are very well stated. Thank you for another excellent, timely, and eloquent editorial!

David Krassner, MD
Phoenix, Arizona

I completely agree with your promotion of a unified transdiagnostic model. All of this makes sense on the continuum of consciousness—restricted consciousness represents fear, whereas wide consciousness represents complete connectivity (love in the spiritual sense). Therefore, a threat not resolved can lead to defeat and an unresolved painful defeat can lead to a psychotic projection. Is it no surprise, then, that a medication such as quetiapine can treat the whole continuum from anxiety at low doses to psychosis at high doses?

Mike Primc, MD
Chardon, Ohio

I enjoyed reading the optimistic outlook for psychiatry outlined in your SWOT analysis (“Contemporary psychiatry: A SWOT analysis,” Current Psychiatry, January 2023, p. 16-19,27, doi:10.12788/cp.0320). I agree with the challenges ahead, including the challenge of keeping up with the explosion of knowledge in relation to the brain, emotions, and the complex interactions of genetics, environment, and biology. I’m excited by the movements in psychopharmacology, which hold promises for new, more effective, less toxic treatments for some of our most challenging disorders.

I think, though, you misplaced an opportunity as a threat in your assessment that the increase in the amount of advanced practice psychiatric nurses (PMHAPRNs) presents a threat to psychiatry. The presence of an increased number of PMHAPRNs provides access to a larger number of people needing treatment by qualified, skilled mental health professionals and an opportunity for psychiatrists to participate in highly effective teams of psychiatric clinicians. This workforce-building is of particular importance during our current clinician shortage, especially within psychiatry. Most research has shown that advanced practice nurses’ quality of care is competitive with that of physicians with similar experience, and that patient satisfaction is high. Advanced practice nurses are more likely than physicians to provide care in underserved populations and in rural communities. We are educated to practice independently within our scope, to standards established by our professional organizations as well as American Psychiatric Association (APA) clinical guidelines. I hope you will reconsider your view of your PMHAPRN colleagues as a threat and see them as a positive contribution to your chosen field of psychiatry, like the APA has shown in their choice of including a PMHAPRN as a clinical expert team member on the SMI Adviser initiative.

Stella Logan, APRN, PMHCNS-BC, PMHNP-BC
Austin, Texas

Dr. Nasrallah responds

Thank you for your letter regarding my SWOT article. It was originally written for the newsletter of the Ohio Psychiatric Physicians Association, comprised of 1,000 psychiatrists. To them, nurse practitioners (NPs) are regarded as a threat because some mental health care systems have been laying off psychiatrists and hiring NPs to lower costs. This obviously is perceived as a threat. I do agree with you that well-qualified NPs are providing needed mental health services in underserved areas (eg, inner cities and rural areas), where it is very difficult to recruit psychiatrists due to the severe shortage nationally.

Henry A. Nasrallah, MD, DLFAPA
Editor-in-Chief

Continue to: More on the transdiagnostic model

 

 

More on the transdiagnostic model

I just had the pleasure of reading your February 2023 editorial (“Depression and schizophrenia: Many biological and clinical similarities,” Current Psychiatry, February 2023, p. 3-5, doi:10.12788/cp.0331) and it was truly wonderful. For years it has seemed to me that the somewhat unnatural divisions in psychiatry with respect to diagnosis were a necessary evil, for numerous reasons. It seems the tide is turning, however, and for those of us who have always afforded a primacy to treating a patient’s symptoms rather than a diagnosis in a book, it seems the research is at last supporting that approach. Your points about insurance companies and the mendacity and cupidity that underlies their policies are very well stated. Thank you for another excellent, timely, and eloquent editorial!

David Krassner, MD
Phoenix, Arizona

I completely agree with your promotion of a unified transdiagnostic model. All of this makes sense on the continuum of consciousness—restricted consciousness represents fear, whereas wide consciousness represents complete connectivity (love in the spiritual sense). Therefore, a threat not resolved can lead to defeat and an unresolved painful defeat can lead to a psychotic projection. Is it no surprise, then, that a medication such as quetiapine can treat the whole continuum from anxiety at low doses to psychosis at high doses?

Mike Primc, MD
Chardon, Ohio

Recently, I reported to the Washtenaw County Circuit Courthouse in Ann Arbor, Mich., to fulfill my civic responsibility of jury duty. After check-in, a pool of 250 potential jurors were shown a video about implicit bias and shuttled off to different courtrooms for the jury selection process (voir dire, or “to speak the truth” in French). While not personally called up to the juror box on this day, I did have the opportunity to observe the attorneys and judge as they questioned potential jurors to uncover any indication that they might not be fair or impartial in judging the facts of this criminal case. After over 3 hours of questioning and several peremptory challenges, a jury was empaneled, and the rest of us were dismissed for the day.

As I left the courthouse, I could not help but reflect on the parallels between the legal and health care systems in terms of the negative impacts of unconscious or implicit bias. In the legal system, implicit bias can adversely affect legal outcomes by impacting the beliefs and attitudes of multiple stakeholders, including attorneys and judges, litigants, witnesses, and of course jurors, threatening one of our society’s most fundamental principles of equal justice under the law. In the health care arena, implicit bias has been shown to impact patient-clinician communication and contribute to racial and ethnic disparities in patient outcomes. As a medical community, acknowledging and accepting the existence of implicit bias, its manifestations, and its impact is a critical first step to ensuring that every patient that walks into our exam rooms receives equitable care, and we can begin to move the needle in addressing persistent health disparities in patients with gastrointestinal diseases and beyond. While this is regrettably a politically charged topic in our current environment, I urge you to join me in reflecting on whether and how unconscious attitudes or stereotypes may unintentionally color the way in which you interact with patients in the clinic and serve to create or perpetuate inequities in treatment. (I also urge you to show up for jury duty!)

Turning to our April issue, we highlight two recent studies from AGA’s flagship journals, one showing an unexpected rise in pancreatic cancer incidence among women under the age of 55, and another evaluating survival outcomes by fibrosis stage in biopsy-proven nonalcoholic fatty liver disease. In this month’s Member Spotlight column, we introduce you to gastroenterologist Daniel Leffler, MD, who shares his experiences transitioning from a traditional academic career to a job in industry to further scientific advancements in celiac disease treatment. We hope you enjoy these articles and all the content included in our April issue!

Megan A. Adams, MD, JD, MSc
Editor-in-Chief

Recently, I reported to the Washtenaw County Circuit Courthouse in Ann Arbor, Mich., to fulfill my civic responsibility of jury duty. After check-in, a pool of 250 potential jurors were shown a video about implicit bias and shuttled off to different courtrooms for the jury selection process (voir dire, or “to speak the truth” in French). While not personally called up to the juror box on this day, I did have the opportunity to observe the attorneys and judge as they questioned potential jurors to uncover any indication that they might not be fair or impartial in judging the facts of this criminal case. After over 3 hours of questioning and several peremptory challenges, a jury was empaneled, and the rest of us were dismissed for the day.

As I left the courthouse, I could not help but reflect on the parallels between the legal and health care systems in terms of the negative impacts of unconscious or implicit bias. In the legal system, implicit bias can adversely affect legal outcomes by impacting the beliefs and attitudes of multiple stakeholders, including attorneys and judges, litigants, witnesses, and of course jurors, threatening one of our society’s most fundamental principles of equal justice under the law. In the health care arena, implicit bias has been shown to impact patient-clinician communication and contribute to racial and ethnic disparities in patient outcomes. As a medical community, acknowledging and accepting the existence of implicit bias, its manifestations, and its impact is a critical first step to ensuring that every patient that walks into our exam rooms receives equitable care, and we can begin to move the needle in addressing persistent health disparities in patients with gastrointestinal diseases and beyond. While this is regrettably a politically charged topic in our current environment, I urge you to join me in reflecting on whether and how unconscious attitudes or stereotypes may unintentionally color the way in which you interact with patients in the clinic and serve to create or perpetuate inequities in treatment. (I also urge you to show up for jury duty!)

Turning to our April issue, we highlight two recent studies from AGA’s flagship journals, one showing an unexpected rise in pancreatic cancer incidence among women under the age of 55, and another evaluating survival outcomes by fibrosis stage in biopsy-proven nonalcoholic fatty liver disease. In this month’s Member Spotlight column, we introduce you to gastroenterologist Daniel Leffler, MD, who shares his experiences transitioning from a traditional academic career to a job in industry to further scientific advancements in celiac disease treatment. We hope you enjoy these articles and all the content included in our April issue!

Megan A. Adams, MD, JD, MSc
Editor-in-Chief

Recently, I reported to the Washtenaw County Circuit Courthouse in Ann Arbor, Mich., to fulfill my civic responsibility of jury duty. After check-in, a pool of 250 potential jurors were shown a video about implicit bias and shuttled off to different courtrooms for the jury selection process (voir dire, or “to speak the truth” in French). While not personally called up to the juror box on this day, I did have the opportunity to observe the attorneys and judge as they questioned potential jurors to uncover any indication that they might not be fair or impartial in judging the facts of this criminal case. After over 3 hours of questioning and several peremptory challenges, a jury was empaneled, and the rest of us were dismissed for the day.

As I left the courthouse, I could not help but reflect on the parallels between the legal and health care systems in terms of the negative impacts of unconscious or implicit bias. In the legal system, implicit bias can adversely affect legal outcomes by impacting the beliefs and attitudes of multiple stakeholders, including attorneys and judges, litigants, witnesses, and of course jurors, threatening one of our society’s most fundamental principles of equal justice under the law. In the health care arena, implicit bias has been shown to impact patient-clinician communication and contribute to racial and ethnic disparities in patient outcomes. As a medical community, acknowledging and accepting the existence of implicit bias, its manifestations, and its impact is a critical first step to ensuring that every patient that walks into our exam rooms receives equitable care, and we can begin to move the needle in addressing persistent health disparities in patients with gastrointestinal diseases and beyond. While this is regrettably a politically charged topic in our current environment, I urge you to join me in reflecting on whether and how unconscious attitudes or stereotypes may unintentionally color the way in which you interact with patients in the clinic and serve to create or perpetuate inequities in treatment. (I also urge you to show up for jury duty!)

Turning to our April issue, we highlight two recent studies from AGA’s flagship journals, one showing an unexpected rise in pancreatic cancer incidence among women under the age of 55, and another evaluating survival outcomes by fibrosis stage in biopsy-proven nonalcoholic fatty liver disease. In this month’s Member Spotlight column, we introduce you to gastroenterologist Daniel Leffler, MD, who shares his experiences transitioning from a traditional academic career to a job in industry to further scientific advancements in celiac disease treatment. We hope you enjoy these articles and all the content included in our April issue!

Megan A. Adams, MD, JD, MSc
Editor-in-Chief