Letters from Maine

There is no question that none of us, not just pediatricians, is doing a very good job of dealing with the obesity problem this nation faces. We can agree that a more active lifestyle that includes spells of vigorous activity is important for weight management. We know that in general overweight people sleep less than do those whose basal metabolic rate is normal. And, of course, we know that a diet high in calorie-dense foods is associated with unhealthy weight gain.

Not surprisingly, overweight individuals are usually struggling with all three of these challenges. They are less active, get too little sleep, and are ingesting a diet that is too calorie dense. In other words, they would benefit from a total lifestyle reboot. But you know as well as I do a change of that magnitude is much easier said than done. Few families can afford nor would they have the appetite for sending their children to a “fat camp” for 6 months with no guarantee of success.

Instead of throwing up our hands in the face of this monumental task or attacking it at close range, maybe we should aim our efforts at the risk associations that will yield the best results for our efforts. A group of researchers at the University of South Australia has just published a study in Pediatrics in which they provide some data that may help us target our interventions with obese and overweight children. The researchers did not investigate diet, but used accelerometers to determine how much time each child spent sleeping and a variety of activity levels. They then determined what effect changes in the child’s allocation of activity had on their adiposity.

The investigators found on a minute-to-minute basis that an increase in a child’s moderate-to-vigorous physical activity (MVPA) was up to six times more effective at influencing adiposity than was a decrease in sedentary time or an increase in sleep duration. For example, 17 minutes of MVPA had the same beneficial effect as 52 minutes more sleep or 56 minutes less sedentary time. Interestingly and somewhat surprisingly, the researchers found that light activity was positively associated with adiposity.

For those of us in primary care, this study from Australia suggests that our time (and the parents’ time) would be best spent figuring out how to include more MVPA in the child’s day and not focus so much on sleep duration and sedentary intervals.

However, before one can make any recommendation one must first have a clear understanding of how the child and his family spend the day. This process can be done in the office by interviewing the family. I have found that this is not as time consuming as one might think and often yields some valuable additional insight into the family’s dynamics. Sending the family home with an hourly log to be filled in or asking them to use a smartphone to record information will also work.

I must admit that at first I found the results of this study ran counter to my intuition. I have always felt that sleep is the linchpin to the solution of a variety of health style related problems. In my construct, more sleep has always been the first and easy answer and decreasing screen time the second. But, it turns out that increasing MVPA may give us the biggest bang for the buck. Which is fine with me.

The problem facing us is how we can be creative in adding that 20 minutes of vigorous activity. In most communities, we have allowed the school system to drop the ball. We can hope that this study will be confirmed or at least widely publicized. It feels like it is time to guarantee that every child gets a robust gym class every school day.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

There is no question that none of us, not just pediatricians, is doing a very good job of dealing with the obesity problem this nation faces. We can agree that a more active lifestyle that includes spells of vigorous activity is important for weight management. We know that in general overweight people sleep less than do those whose basal metabolic rate is normal. And, of course, we know that a diet high in calorie-dense foods is associated with unhealthy weight gain.

Not surprisingly, overweight individuals are usually struggling with all three of these challenges. They are less active, get too little sleep, and are ingesting a diet that is too calorie dense. In other words, they would benefit from a total lifestyle reboot. But you know as well as I do a change of that magnitude is much easier said than done. Few families can afford nor would they have the appetite for sending their children to a “fat camp” for 6 months with no guarantee of success.

Instead of throwing up our hands in the face of this monumental task or attacking it at close range, maybe we should aim our efforts at the risk associations that will yield the best results for our efforts. A group of researchers at the University of South Australia has just published a study in Pediatrics in which they provide some data that may help us target our interventions with obese and overweight children. The researchers did not investigate diet, but used accelerometers to determine how much time each child spent sleeping and a variety of activity levels. They then determined what effect changes in the child’s allocation of activity had on their adiposity.

The investigators found on a minute-to-minute basis that an increase in a child’s moderate-to-vigorous physical activity (MVPA) was up to six times more effective at influencing adiposity than was a decrease in sedentary time or an increase in sleep duration. For example, 17 minutes of MVPA had the same beneficial effect as 52 minutes more sleep or 56 minutes less sedentary time. Interestingly and somewhat surprisingly, the researchers found that light activity was positively associated with adiposity.

For those of us in primary care, this study from Australia suggests that our time (and the parents’ time) would be best spent figuring out how to include more MVPA in the child’s day and not focus so much on sleep duration and sedentary intervals.

However, before one can make any recommendation one must first have a clear understanding of how the child and his family spend the day. This process can be done in the office by interviewing the family. I have found that this is not as time consuming as one might think and often yields some valuable additional insight into the family’s dynamics. Sending the family home with an hourly log to be filled in or asking them to use a smartphone to record information will also work.

I must admit that at first I found the results of this study ran counter to my intuition. I have always felt that sleep is the linchpin to the solution of a variety of health style related problems. In my construct, more sleep has always been the first and easy answer and decreasing screen time the second. But, it turns out that increasing MVPA may give us the biggest bang for the buck. Which is fine with me.

The problem facing us is how we can be creative in adding that 20 minutes of vigorous activity. In most communities, we have allowed the school system to drop the ball. We can hope that this study will be confirmed or at least widely publicized. It feels like it is time to guarantee that every child gets a robust gym class every school day.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

There is no question that none of us, not just pediatricians, is doing a very good job of dealing with the obesity problem this nation faces. We can agree that a more active lifestyle that includes spells of vigorous activity is important for weight management. We know that in general overweight people sleep less than do those whose basal metabolic rate is normal. And, of course, we know that a diet high in calorie-dense foods is associated with unhealthy weight gain.

Not surprisingly, overweight individuals are usually struggling with all three of these challenges. They are less active, get too little sleep, and are ingesting a diet that is too calorie dense. In other words, they would benefit from a total lifestyle reboot. But you know as well as I do a change of that magnitude is much easier said than done. Few families can afford nor would they have the appetite for sending their children to a “fat camp” for 6 months with no guarantee of success.

Instead of throwing up our hands in the face of this monumental task or attacking it at close range, maybe we should aim our efforts at the risk associations that will yield the best results for our efforts. A group of researchers at the University of South Australia has just published a study in Pediatrics in which they provide some data that may help us target our interventions with obese and overweight children. The researchers did not investigate diet, but used accelerometers to determine how much time each child spent sleeping and a variety of activity levels. They then determined what effect changes in the child’s allocation of activity had on their adiposity.

The investigators found on a minute-to-minute basis that an increase in a child’s moderate-to-vigorous physical activity (MVPA) was up to six times more effective at influencing adiposity than was a decrease in sedentary time or an increase in sleep duration. For example, 17 minutes of MVPA had the same beneficial effect as 52 minutes more sleep or 56 minutes less sedentary time. Interestingly and somewhat surprisingly, the researchers found that light activity was positively associated with adiposity.

For those of us in primary care, this study from Australia suggests that our time (and the parents’ time) would be best spent figuring out how to include more MVPA in the child’s day and not focus so much on sleep duration and sedentary intervals.

However, before one can make any recommendation one must first have a clear understanding of how the child and his family spend the day. This process can be done in the office by interviewing the family. I have found that this is not as time consuming as one might think and often yields some valuable additional insight into the family’s dynamics. Sending the family home with an hourly log to be filled in or asking them to use a smartphone to record information will also work.

I must admit that at first I found the results of this study ran counter to my intuition. I have always felt that sleep is the linchpin to the solution of a variety of health style related problems. In my construct, more sleep has always been the first and easy answer and decreasing screen time the second. But, it turns out that increasing MVPA may give us the biggest bang for the buck. Which is fine with me.

The problem facing us is how we can be creative in adding that 20 minutes of vigorous activity. In most communities, we have allowed the school system to drop the ball. We can hope that this study will be confirmed or at least widely publicized. It feels like it is time to guarantee that every child gets a robust gym class every school day.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

The light at the end of the pandemic tunnel seems even brighter than it did just a month ago and in its glow it’s tempting to look back on the adjustments we have made in our lives and consider how many of those adjustments will solidify into new standards. Certainly, near the top of the changes wrought by SARS-CoV-2 is an explosive use of the Internet as a vehicle for group interaction and communication. Did you even know what Zoom was a year ago?

From remote education to international business meetings our screen time has increased dramatically. In homes across the country families have relaxed any restrictions they might have had on video exposure as they struggled to amuse and entertain children who have been shut off from their playmates. As reported in the Washington Post, the monitoring company Bark found that children sent and received 144% more Internet messages in 2020 than they had the year before..

Even families that I know who have been incredibly creative in finding physical activities, both indoor and outdoor, for their children have scaled back their restrictions on screen time. While the term “survival mode” is a bit too strong to describe this phenomenon, it was simply a matter of finding solutions given a limited supply of options.

The increase in screen time has prompted many parents to worry about its effect on their children. The American Academy of Pediatrics has already expressed concern about the cumulative effects of screen exposure on visual acuity. And it seems reasonable to expect that the obesity epidemic will accelerate as more children become more sedentary watching video screens. Whether the dire predictions of educators about lost learning will come true remains to be seen.

We can hope that this relaxation of screen time limits will be temporary. But that hope has a slim chance of becoming a reality as we have realized how powerful the Internet can be as an imperfect but effective educational tool. We have seen that apps such as Zoom, GoToMeeting, and FaceTime can allow families to connect on holidays when to face-to-face meetings are impractical. How should parents, and those of us who advise them, begin to restructure sensible and enforceable guidelines for screen time given the sea change we have just experienced?

There will certainly be significant resistance on the part of children to unlearn screen habits developed during the darkest hours of the pandemic: Texting a friend whom you will now be able to see in school, playing a video game instead of biking around the neighborhood with on a sunny afternoon, or, binging on sitcoms in the evening with your parents when they knew you didn’t have to get up early to catch the school bus.

It could be a herculean task to nudge the screen time pendulum back toward the prepandemic “norm.” In the past we haven’t done a very good job of promoting a healthy screen time diet for children. When the only screen in town was television the American Academy of Pediatrics’ focus was more on content than quantity. Quality is often difficult to assess and parents, like most everyone, seem more comfortable with guidelines that include a time metric – even if they don’t seem to be very good at enforcing it.

Maybe screen time is too big a boulder to roll up the hill. The good news is that during the pandemic, activity – particularly outdoor activity – has increased dramatically. Bicycles went off the shelves like toilet paper. National and state parks have been overflowing with families. While we must not ignore the downside of excess screen time, we should put more effort into promoting the healthy alternative of outdoor recreation. Let’s not allow a positive trend slip into becoming a short-lived fad.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

The light at the end of the pandemic tunnel seems even brighter than it did just a month ago and in its glow it’s tempting to look back on the adjustments we have made in our lives and consider how many of those adjustments will solidify into new standards. Certainly, near the top of the changes wrought by SARS-CoV-2 is an explosive use of the Internet as a vehicle for group interaction and communication. Did you even know what Zoom was a year ago?

From remote education to international business meetings our screen time has increased dramatically. In homes across the country families have relaxed any restrictions they might have had on video exposure as they struggled to amuse and entertain children who have been shut off from their playmates. As reported in the Washington Post, the monitoring company Bark found that children sent and received 144% more Internet messages in 2020 than they had the year before..

Even families that I know who have been incredibly creative in finding physical activities, both indoor and outdoor, for their children have scaled back their restrictions on screen time. While the term “survival mode” is a bit too strong to describe this phenomenon, it was simply a matter of finding solutions given a limited supply of options.

The increase in screen time has prompted many parents to worry about its effect on their children. The American Academy of Pediatrics has already expressed concern about the cumulative effects of screen exposure on visual acuity. And it seems reasonable to expect that the obesity epidemic will accelerate as more children become more sedentary watching video screens. Whether the dire predictions of educators about lost learning will come true remains to be seen.

We can hope that this relaxation of screen time limits will be temporary. But that hope has a slim chance of becoming a reality as we have realized how powerful the Internet can be as an imperfect but effective educational tool. We have seen that apps such as Zoom, GoToMeeting, and FaceTime can allow families to connect on holidays when to face-to-face meetings are impractical. How should parents, and those of us who advise them, begin to restructure sensible and enforceable guidelines for screen time given the sea change we have just experienced?

There will certainly be significant resistance on the part of children to unlearn screen habits developed during the darkest hours of the pandemic: Texting a friend whom you will now be able to see in school, playing a video game instead of biking around the neighborhood with on a sunny afternoon, or, binging on sitcoms in the evening with your parents when they knew you didn’t have to get up early to catch the school bus.

It could be a herculean task to nudge the screen time pendulum back toward the prepandemic “norm.” In the past we haven’t done a very good job of promoting a healthy screen time diet for children. When the only screen in town was television the American Academy of Pediatrics’ focus was more on content than quantity. Quality is often difficult to assess and parents, like most everyone, seem more comfortable with guidelines that include a time metric – even if they don’t seem to be very good at enforcing it.

Maybe screen time is too big a boulder to roll up the hill. The good news is that during the pandemic, activity – particularly outdoor activity – has increased dramatically. Bicycles went off the shelves like toilet paper. National and state parks have been overflowing with families. While we must not ignore the downside of excess screen time, we should put more effort into promoting the healthy alternative of outdoor recreation. Let’s not allow a positive trend slip into becoming a short-lived fad.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

The light at the end of the pandemic tunnel seems even brighter than it did just a month ago and in its glow it’s tempting to look back on the adjustments we have made in our lives and consider how many of those adjustments will solidify into new standards. Certainly, near the top of the changes wrought by SARS-CoV-2 is an explosive use of the Internet as a vehicle for group interaction and communication. Did you even know what Zoom was a year ago?

From remote education to international business meetings our screen time has increased dramatically. In homes across the country families have relaxed any restrictions they might have had on video exposure as they struggled to amuse and entertain children who have been shut off from their playmates. As reported in the Washington Post, the monitoring company Bark found that children sent and received 144% more Internet messages in 2020 than they had the year before..

Even families that I know who have been incredibly creative in finding physical activities, both indoor and outdoor, for their children have scaled back their restrictions on screen time. While the term “survival mode” is a bit too strong to describe this phenomenon, it was simply a matter of finding solutions given a limited supply of options.

The increase in screen time has prompted many parents to worry about its effect on their children. The American Academy of Pediatrics has already expressed concern about the cumulative effects of screen exposure on visual acuity. And it seems reasonable to expect that the obesity epidemic will accelerate as more children become more sedentary watching video screens. Whether the dire predictions of educators about lost learning will come true remains to be seen.

We can hope that this relaxation of screen time limits will be temporary. But that hope has a slim chance of becoming a reality as we have realized how powerful the Internet can be as an imperfect but effective educational tool. We have seen that apps such as Zoom, GoToMeeting, and FaceTime can allow families to connect on holidays when to face-to-face meetings are impractical. How should parents, and those of us who advise them, begin to restructure sensible and enforceable guidelines for screen time given the sea change we have just experienced?

There will certainly be significant resistance on the part of children to unlearn screen habits developed during the darkest hours of the pandemic: Texting a friend whom you will now be able to see in school, playing a video game instead of biking around the neighborhood with on a sunny afternoon, or, binging on sitcoms in the evening with your parents when they knew you didn’t have to get up early to catch the school bus.

It could be a herculean task to nudge the screen time pendulum back toward the prepandemic “norm.” In the past we haven’t done a very good job of promoting a healthy screen time diet for children. When the only screen in town was television the American Academy of Pediatrics’ focus was more on content than quantity. Quality is often difficult to assess and parents, like most everyone, seem more comfortable with guidelines that include a time metric – even if they don’t seem to be very good at enforcing it.

Maybe screen time is too big a boulder to roll up the hill. The good news is that during the pandemic, activity – particularly outdoor activity – has increased dramatically. Bicycles went off the shelves like toilet paper. National and state parks have been overflowing with families. While we must not ignore the downside of excess screen time, we should put more effort into promoting the healthy alternative of outdoor recreation. Let’s not allow a positive trend slip into becoming a short-lived fad.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

Are you a napper? Unless you’re retired that may sound like a ridiculous question. When could you possibly fit in the time to doze off for even 20 minutes? I suspect there may be one or two of you who, although you are still working, have found a way to schedule a nap into your schedules. The rest of us must wait until we no longer have clinical responsibilities.

In my experience, you regular nappers seem to be the lucky few who have discovered the art of nodding off after lunch and waking up refreshed and ready to take on a full afternoon of patients. We in the unlucky majority may have tried taking a nap but run the risk of its flowing into a deep slumber the length of which we can’t control. Or, more likely, we find that we wake feeling groggy and disoriented and, even worse, the daytime nod off has messed up our nighttime schedule.

Well, it turns out the ability to take daytime naps and reap their cardiometabolic benefits is not just luck but has a significant genetic component. Investigators at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston have recently published a study in which they report finding more than a score of gene regions that determine a person’s propensity to take daytime naps.. The researchers have also unearthed preliminary evidence supporting a link between daytime napping and cardiometabolic health. My mother began napping when my sister and I were infants and never gave it up. Unfortunately, I seem to have ended up on the wrong side of the genomic shuffle.

Although this new research is interesting, I don’t think the investigators have enough information to answer one of the questions that every pediatrician fields multiple times each week. “When should my toddler grow out of his afternoon nap?” Although it looks like we may be getting closer to a gene-based answer, I have always couched my reply in terms of behavior modification and the fostering of habit-forming associations.

As a child begins to transition from multiple short naps interspersed with feedings to a pattern of two distinct naps, I suggest to parents that they begin to think of the afternoon nap as a siesta. In other words, the nap is something that always comes immediately after lunch with no intervening shenanigans. No playtime, no Teletubbies videos, no quick trips to the grocery store, nothing, nada, zip.

At least for me, lunch has always been soporific. And I suspect we will learn eventually that association cuts across the entire genetic landscape to one degree or another. It makes sense to take advantage of that association and remove all other distractions. For some parents, that means creating the illusion that they too are taking a siesta: No TV, no phone calls. Imagine that the whole household has suddenly moved to Spain for the next hour or two. If you’ve ever been a tourist in rural Spain and tried to do anything, buy anything, or visit a museum between 2 and 4 p.m. you’ve got the idea.

When the child is young he or she will probably fall asleep as long as his parents have been reasonably successful at maintaining sleep hygiene practices. As the child is gaining more stamina and gives up the morning nap, the siesta will remain as a quiet time because that’s the way it’s always been in the household. The child may sleep or play quietly, or be read a sleep-inducing story because no other options will be available until some predetermined time. An hour is usually reasonable. If sleep hasn’t overtaken them, an earlier bedtime will probably be in order. The child will outgrow the napping part of the siesta when his or her sleep need is gone. But, the siesta/quiet time can remain as an option until all-day school intervenes. This scheme works if you can get parents to appropriately prioritize their child’s sleep needs. That’s not always an easy sell.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

Are you a napper? Unless you’re retired that may sound like a ridiculous question. When could you possibly fit in the time to doze off for even 20 minutes? I suspect there may be one or two of you who, although you are still working, have found a way to schedule a nap into your schedules. The rest of us must wait until we no longer have clinical responsibilities.

In my experience, you regular nappers seem to be the lucky few who have discovered the art of nodding off after lunch and waking up refreshed and ready to take on a full afternoon of patients. We in the unlucky majority may have tried taking a nap but run the risk of its flowing into a deep slumber the length of which we can’t control. Or, more likely, we find that we wake feeling groggy and disoriented and, even worse, the daytime nod off has messed up our nighttime schedule.

Well, it turns out the ability to take daytime naps and reap their cardiometabolic benefits is not just luck but has a significant genetic component. Investigators at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston have recently published a study in which they report finding more than a score of gene regions that determine a person’s propensity to take daytime naps.. The researchers have also unearthed preliminary evidence supporting a link between daytime napping and cardiometabolic health. My mother began napping when my sister and I were infants and never gave it up. Unfortunately, I seem to have ended up on the wrong side of the genomic shuffle.

Although this new research is interesting, I don’t think the investigators have enough information to answer one of the questions that every pediatrician fields multiple times each week. “When should my toddler grow out of his afternoon nap?” Although it looks like we may be getting closer to a gene-based answer, I have always couched my reply in terms of behavior modification and the fostering of habit-forming associations.

As a child begins to transition from multiple short naps interspersed with feedings to a pattern of two distinct naps, I suggest to parents that they begin to think of the afternoon nap as a siesta. In other words, the nap is something that always comes immediately after lunch with no intervening shenanigans. No playtime, no Teletubbies videos, no quick trips to the grocery store, nothing, nada, zip.

At least for me, lunch has always been soporific. And I suspect we will learn eventually that association cuts across the entire genetic landscape to one degree or another. It makes sense to take advantage of that association and remove all other distractions. For some parents, that means creating the illusion that they too are taking a siesta: No TV, no phone calls. Imagine that the whole household has suddenly moved to Spain for the next hour or two. If you’ve ever been a tourist in rural Spain and tried to do anything, buy anything, or visit a museum between 2 and 4 p.m. you’ve got the idea.

When the child is young he or she will probably fall asleep as long as his parents have been reasonably successful at maintaining sleep hygiene practices. As the child is gaining more stamina and gives up the morning nap, the siesta will remain as a quiet time because that’s the way it’s always been in the household. The child may sleep or play quietly, or be read a sleep-inducing story because no other options will be available until some predetermined time. An hour is usually reasonable. If sleep hasn’t overtaken them, an earlier bedtime will probably be in order. The child will outgrow the napping part of the siesta when his or her sleep need is gone. But, the siesta/quiet time can remain as an option until all-day school intervenes. This scheme works if you can get parents to appropriately prioritize their child’s sleep needs. That’s not always an easy sell.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

Are you a napper? Unless you’re retired that may sound like a ridiculous question. When could you possibly fit in the time to doze off for even 20 minutes? I suspect there may be one or two of you who, although you are still working, have found a way to schedule a nap into your schedules. The rest of us must wait until we no longer have clinical responsibilities.

In my experience, you regular nappers seem to be the lucky few who have discovered the art of nodding off after lunch and waking up refreshed and ready to take on a full afternoon of patients. We in the unlucky majority may have tried taking a nap but run the risk of its flowing into a deep slumber the length of which we can’t control. Or, more likely, we find that we wake feeling groggy and disoriented and, even worse, the daytime nod off has messed up our nighttime schedule.

Well, it turns out the ability to take daytime naps and reap their cardiometabolic benefits is not just luck but has a significant genetic component. Investigators at Massachusetts General Hospital in Boston have recently published a study in which they report finding more than a score of gene regions that determine a person’s propensity to take daytime naps.. The researchers have also unearthed preliminary evidence supporting a link between daytime napping and cardiometabolic health. My mother began napping when my sister and I were infants and never gave it up. Unfortunately, I seem to have ended up on the wrong side of the genomic shuffle.

Although this new research is interesting, I don’t think the investigators have enough information to answer one of the questions that every pediatrician fields multiple times each week. “When should my toddler grow out of his afternoon nap?” Although it looks like we may be getting closer to a gene-based answer, I have always couched my reply in terms of behavior modification and the fostering of habit-forming associations.

As a child begins to transition from multiple short naps interspersed with feedings to a pattern of two distinct naps, I suggest to parents that they begin to think of the afternoon nap as a siesta. In other words, the nap is something that always comes immediately after lunch with no intervening shenanigans. No playtime, no Teletubbies videos, no quick trips to the grocery store, nothing, nada, zip.

At least for me, lunch has always been soporific. And I suspect we will learn eventually that association cuts across the entire genetic landscape to one degree or another. It makes sense to take advantage of that association and remove all other distractions. For some parents, that means creating the illusion that they too are taking a siesta: No TV, no phone calls. Imagine that the whole household has suddenly moved to Spain for the next hour or two. If you’ve ever been a tourist in rural Spain and tried to do anything, buy anything, or visit a museum between 2 and 4 p.m. you’ve got the idea.

When the child is young he or she will probably fall asleep as long as his parents have been reasonably successful at maintaining sleep hygiene practices. As the child is gaining more stamina and gives up the morning nap, the siesta will remain as a quiet time because that’s the way it’s always been in the household. The child may sleep or play quietly, or be read a sleep-inducing story because no other options will be available until some predetermined time. An hour is usually reasonable. If sleep hasn’t overtaken them, an earlier bedtime will probably be in order. The child will outgrow the napping part of the siesta when his or her sleep need is gone. But, the siesta/quiet time can remain as an option until all-day school intervenes. This scheme works if you can get parents to appropriately prioritize their child’s sleep needs. That’s not always an easy sell.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

After 15 years of limping and a gradual downhill slide in mobility, recreational walking had become uncomfortable enough that I’ve decided to shed my proudly worn cloak of denial and seek help. Even I could see that the x-ray made a total knee replacement the only option for some return to near normalcy. Scheduling a total knee replacement became a no-brainer.

My decision to accept the risks to reap the benefits of surgery is small potatoes compared with the decisions that the parents of a child born with a deformed lower extremity must face. In the Family Partnerships section of the February 2021 issue of Pediatrics you will find a heart-wrenching story of a family who embarked on what turned out to be painful and frustrating journey to lengthen their daughter’s congenitally deficient leg. In their own words, the mother and daughter describe how neither of them were prepared for the pain and life-altering complications the daughter has endured. Influenced by the optimism exuded by surgeons, the family gave little thought to the magnitude of the decision they were being asked to make. One has to wonder in retrospect if a well-timed amputation and prosthesis might have been a better decision. However, the thought of removing an extremity, even one that isn’t fully functional, is not one that most of us like to consider.

Over the last several decades I have read stories about people – usually athletes – born with short or deformed lower extremities who have faced the decision of amputation. I recall one college-age young man who despite his deformity and with the help of a prosthesis was a competitive multisport athlete. However, it became clear that his deformed foot was preventing him from accessing the most advanced prosthetic technology. Although he was highly motivated, he described his struggle with the decision to part with a portion of his body that despite its appearance and dysfunction had been with him since birth. On the other hand, I have read stories of young people who had become so frustrated by their deformity that they were more than eager to undergo amputation despite the concerns of their parents.

Early in my career I encountered a 3-year-old with phocomelia whose family was visiting from out of town and had come to our clinic because his older sibling was sick. The youngster, as I recall, had only one complete extremity, an arm. Like most 3-year-olds, he was driven to explore at breakneck speed. I will never forget watching him streak back and forth the length of our linoleum covered hallway like a crab skittering along the beach. His mother described how she and his well-meaning physicians were struggling unsuccessfully to get him to accept prostheses. Later I learned that his resistance is shared by many of the survivors of the thalidomide disaster who felt that the most frustrating period in their lives came when, again well-meaning, caregivers had tried to make them look and function more normally by fitting them with prostheses.

These anecdotal observations make clear a philosophy that we should have already internalized. In most clinic decisions the patient, pretty much regardless of age, should be a full participant in the process. And, to do this the patient and his or her family must be as informed as possible. Managing the aftermath of a traumatic amputation presents it own special set of challenges, but when it comes to elective amputation or prosthetic application for a congenital deficiency it is dangerous for us to insert our personal bias into the decision making.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

After 15 years of limping and a gradual downhill slide in mobility, recreational walking had become uncomfortable enough that I’ve decided to shed my proudly worn cloak of denial and seek help. Even I could see that the x-ray made a total knee replacement the only option for some return to near normalcy. Scheduling a total knee replacement became a no-brainer.

My decision to accept the risks to reap the benefits of surgery is small potatoes compared with the decisions that the parents of a child born with a deformed lower extremity must face. In the Family Partnerships section of the February 2021 issue of Pediatrics you will find a heart-wrenching story of a family who embarked on what turned out to be painful and frustrating journey to lengthen their daughter’s congenitally deficient leg. In their own words, the mother and daughter describe how neither of them were prepared for the pain and life-altering complications the daughter has endured. Influenced by the optimism exuded by surgeons, the family gave little thought to the magnitude of the decision they were being asked to make. One has to wonder in retrospect if a well-timed amputation and prosthesis might have been a better decision. However, the thought of removing an extremity, even one that isn’t fully functional, is not one that most of us like to consider.

Over the last several decades I have read stories about people – usually athletes – born with short or deformed lower extremities who have faced the decision of amputation. I recall one college-age young man who despite his deformity and with the help of a prosthesis was a competitive multisport athlete. However, it became clear that his deformed foot was preventing him from accessing the most advanced prosthetic technology. Although he was highly motivated, he described his struggle with the decision to part with a portion of his body that despite its appearance and dysfunction had been with him since birth. On the other hand, I have read stories of young people who had become so frustrated by their deformity that they were more than eager to undergo amputation despite the concerns of their parents.

Early in my career I encountered a 3-year-old with phocomelia whose family was visiting from out of town and had come to our clinic because his older sibling was sick. The youngster, as I recall, had only one complete extremity, an arm. Like most 3-year-olds, he was driven to explore at breakneck speed. I will never forget watching him streak back and forth the length of our linoleum covered hallway like a crab skittering along the beach. His mother described how she and his well-meaning physicians were struggling unsuccessfully to get him to accept prostheses. Later I learned that his resistance is shared by many of the survivors of the thalidomide disaster who felt that the most frustrating period in their lives came when, again well-meaning, caregivers had tried to make them look and function more normally by fitting them with prostheses.

These anecdotal observations make clear a philosophy that we should have already internalized. In most clinic decisions the patient, pretty much regardless of age, should be a full participant in the process. And, to do this the patient and his or her family must be as informed as possible. Managing the aftermath of a traumatic amputation presents it own special set of challenges, but when it comes to elective amputation or prosthetic application for a congenital deficiency it is dangerous for us to insert our personal bias into the decision making.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

After 15 years of limping and a gradual downhill slide in mobility, recreational walking had become uncomfortable enough that I’ve decided to shed my proudly worn cloak of denial and seek help. Even I could see that the x-ray made a total knee replacement the only option for some return to near normalcy. Scheduling a total knee replacement became a no-brainer.

My decision to accept the risks to reap the benefits of surgery is small potatoes compared with the decisions that the parents of a child born with a deformed lower extremity must face. In the Family Partnerships section of the February 2021 issue of Pediatrics you will find a heart-wrenching story of a family who embarked on what turned out to be painful and frustrating journey to lengthen their daughter’s congenitally deficient leg. In their own words, the mother and daughter describe how neither of them were prepared for the pain and life-altering complications the daughter has endured. Influenced by the optimism exuded by surgeons, the family gave little thought to the magnitude of the decision they were being asked to make. One has to wonder in retrospect if a well-timed amputation and prosthesis might have been a better decision. However, the thought of removing an extremity, even one that isn’t fully functional, is not one that most of us like to consider.

Over the last several decades I have read stories about people – usually athletes – born with short or deformed lower extremities who have faced the decision of amputation. I recall one college-age young man who despite his deformity and with the help of a prosthesis was a competitive multisport athlete. However, it became clear that his deformed foot was preventing him from accessing the most advanced prosthetic technology. Although he was highly motivated, he described his struggle with the decision to part with a portion of his body that despite its appearance and dysfunction had been with him since birth. On the other hand, I have read stories of young people who had become so frustrated by their deformity that they were more than eager to undergo amputation despite the concerns of their parents.

Early in my career I encountered a 3-year-old with phocomelia whose family was visiting from out of town and had come to our clinic because his older sibling was sick. The youngster, as I recall, had only one complete extremity, an arm. Like most 3-year-olds, he was driven to explore at breakneck speed. I will never forget watching him streak back and forth the length of our linoleum covered hallway like a crab skittering along the beach. His mother described how she and his well-meaning physicians were struggling unsuccessfully to get him to accept prostheses. Later I learned that his resistance is shared by many of the survivors of the thalidomide disaster who felt that the most frustrating period in their lives came when, again well-meaning, caregivers had tried to make them look and function more normally by fitting them with prostheses.

These anecdotal observations make clear a philosophy that we should have already internalized. In most clinic decisions the patient, pretty much regardless of age, should be a full participant in the process. And, to do this the patient and his or her family must be as informed as possible. Managing the aftermath of a traumatic amputation presents it own special set of challenges, but when it comes to elective amputation or prosthetic application for a congenital deficiency it is dangerous for us to insert our personal bias into the decision making.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

In a time when this country is struggling to find topics on which we can achieve broad consensus, the question of whether in-class learning is important stands as an outlier. Parents, teachers, students, and pediatricians all agree that having children learn in a social, face-to-face environment is critical to their education and mental health. Because school has become a de facto daycare source for many families, employers have joined in the chorus supporting a return to in-class education.

Of course, beyond that basic point of agreement the myriad of questions relating to when and how that return to the educational norm can be achieved we divide into groups with almost as many answers as there are questions. Part of the problem stems from the national leadership vacuum that fed the confusion. In this void the topic of school reopening has become politicized.

On Jan. 5, 2021, the American Academy of Pediatrics released an updated interim COVID-19 Guidance for Safe Schools at services.aap.org. It is a thorough and well thought out document that should function as a roadmap for communities and pediatricians who serve as official and unofficial advisers to their local school departments. At the very outset it reminds us that “school transmission mirrors but does not drive community transmission.”

Unfortunately, timing is everything and while the document’s salient points received some media attention it was mostly buried by the tsunami of press coverage in the wake of the storming of the Capitol the next day and the postinauguration reshuffling of the federal government. Even if it had been released on one of those seldom seen quiet news days, I fear the document’s message encouraging the return to in-class learning would have still not received the attention it deserved.

The lack of a high-visibility celebrity spokesperson and a system of short-tenure presidencies puts the AAP at a disadvantage when it comes to getting its message across to a national audience. The advocacy role filters down to those of us in our own communities who must convince school boards that not only is in-class learning critical but there are safe ways to do it.

In some communities the timing of return to in-class learning may pit pediatricians against teachers. Usually, these two groups share an enthusiastic advocacy for children. However, facing what has up to this point been a poorly defined health risk, teachers are understandably resistant to return to the classroom although they acknowledge its importance.

Armed with the AAP’s guidance document, pediatricians should encourage school boards and state and local health departments to look closely at the epidemiologic evidence and consider creative ways to prioritize teachers for what currently are limited and erratic vaccine supplies. Strategies might include offering vaccines to teachers based strictly on their age and/or health status. However, teachers and in-class education are so critical to the educational process and the national economy that an open offer to all teachers makes more sense.

While some states have already prioritized teachers for vaccines, the AAP must continue to speak loudly that in-class education is critical and urge all states to do what is necessary to make teachers feel safe to return to the classroom.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

In a time when this country is struggling to find topics on which we can achieve broad consensus, the question of whether in-class learning is important stands as an outlier. Parents, teachers, students, and pediatricians all agree that having children learn in a social, face-to-face environment is critical to their education and mental health. Because school has become a de facto daycare source for many families, employers have joined in the chorus supporting a return to in-class education.

Of course, beyond that basic point of agreement the myriad of questions relating to when and how that return to the educational norm can be achieved we divide into groups with almost as many answers as there are questions. Part of the problem stems from the national leadership vacuum that fed the confusion. In this void the topic of school reopening has become politicized.

On Jan. 5, 2021, the American Academy of Pediatrics released an updated interim COVID-19 Guidance for Safe Schools at services.aap.org. It is a thorough and well thought out document that should function as a roadmap for communities and pediatricians who serve as official and unofficial advisers to their local school departments. At the very outset it reminds us that “school transmission mirrors but does not drive community transmission.”

Unfortunately, timing is everything and while the document’s salient points received some media attention it was mostly buried by the tsunami of press coverage in the wake of the storming of the Capitol the next day and the postinauguration reshuffling of the federal government. Even if it had been released on one of those seldom seen quiet news days, I fear the document’s message encouraging the return to in-class learning would have still not received the attention it deserved.

The lack of a high-visibility celebrity spokesperson and a system of short-tenure presidencies puts the AAP at a disadvantage when it comes to getting its message across to a national audience. The advocacy role filters down to those of us in our own communities who must convince school boards that not only is in-class learning critical but there are safe ways to do it.

In some communities the timing of return to in-class learning may pit pediatricians against teachers. Usually, these two groups share an enthusiastic advocacy for children. However, facing what has up to this point been a poorly defined health risk, teachers are understandably resistant to return to the classroom although they acknowledge its importance.

Armed with the AAP’s guidance document, pediatricians should encourage school boards and state and local health departments to look closely at the epidemiologic evidence and consider creative ways to prioritize teachers for what currently are limited and erratic vaccine supplies. Strategies might include offering vaccines to teachers based strictly on their age and/or health status. However, teachers and in-class education are so critical to the educational process and the national economy that an open offer to all teachers makes more sense.

While some states have already prioritized teachers for vaccines, the AAP must continue to speak loudly that in-class education is critical and urge all states to do what is necessary to make teachers feel safe to return to the classroom.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

In a time when this country is struggling to find topics on which we can achieve broad consensus, the question of whether in-class learning is important stands as an outlier. Parents, teachers, students, and pediatricians all agree that having children learn in a social, face-to-face environment is critical to their education and mental health. Because school has become a de facto daycare source for many families, employers have joined in the chorus supporting a return to in-class education.

Of course, beyond that basic point of agreement the myriad of questions relating to when and how that return to the educational norm can be achieved we divide into groups with almost as many answers as there are questions. Part of the problem stems from the national leadership vacuum that fed the confusion. In this void the topic of school reopening has become politicized.

On Jan. 5, 2021, the American Academy of Pediatrics released an updated interim COVID-19 Guidance for Safe Schools at services.aap.org. It is a thorough and well thought out document that should function as a roadmap for communities and pediatricians who serve as official and unofficial advisers to their local school departments. At the very outset it reminds us that “school transmission mirrors but does not drive community transmission.”

Unfortunately, timing is everything and while the document’s salient points received some media attention it was mostly buried by the tsunami of press coverage in the wake of the storming of the Capitol the next day and the postinauguration reshuffling of the federal government. Even if it had been released on one of those seldom seen quiet news days, I fear the document’s message encouraging the return to in-class learning would have still not received the attention it deserved.

The lack of a high-visibility celebrity spokesperson and a system of short-tenure presidencies puts the AAP at a disadvantage when it comes to getting its message across to a national audience. The advocacy role filters down to those of us in our own communities who must convince school boards that not only is in-class learning critical but there are safe ways to do it.

In some communities the timing of return to in-class learning may pit pediatricians against teachers. Usually, these two groups share an enthusiastic advocacy for children. However, facing what has up to this point been a poorly defined health risk, teachers are understandably resistant to return to the classroom although they acknowledge its importance.

Armed with the AAP’s guidance document, pediatricians should encourage school boards and state and local health departments to look closely at the epidemiologic evidence and consider creative ways to prioritize teachers for what currently are limited and erratic vaccine supplies. Strategies might include offering vaccines to teachers based strictly on their age and/or health status. However, teachers and in-class education are so critical to the educational process and the national economy that an open offer to all teachers makes more sense.

While some states have already prioritized teachers for vaccines, the AAP must continue to speak loudly that in-class education is critical and urge all states to do what is necessary to make teachers feel safe to return to the classroom.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

The big news in the Wilkoff household is that Marilyn and I will be celebrating the arrival of a granddog into our nuclear family. Our younger daughter and her husband will be welcoming into their home a golden retriever puppy the first week in March. This may not seem like big news to some families and is certainly a step down on the priority list to the arrival of the four grandchildren that we already claim on our resume. But, you must understand that no one in our family has ever owned a dog.

Although my wife’s family had a dog, she apparently never really bonded with the canine. My pleas and occasional whining from our three children to get a dog were always met with my wife’s concerns about cleanliness and hygiene. We did have an antisocial cat who lived under a bed in the guest room or in the basement. His passing after 16 years when the kids were in college was not an event marked with any emotion beyond relief.

I think I harbored an unspoken concern about how I and our children might respond emotionally and psychologically to the inevitable death of what would likely have become our family’s best friend. Dispatching a belly-up goldfish after a month or two is small potatoes compared to putting down a tail-wagging, frisbee-catching, four-footed member of the family.

It turns out that my concerns about the mental health of our children may not have been unfounded. A recently published study from the Harvard Medical School and Massachusetts General Hospital found that children who had experienced the death of a loved pet were more likely to exhibit symptoms of psychopathology than were those who had loved a pet who was still alive (Crawford et al. Eur Child Adolesc Psychiatry. 2020 Sep 10. doi: 10.1007/s00787-020-01594-5). The observed effect of the loss was more pronounced in boys. There was also no statistical difference between the psychopathology symptoms of those children who had loved and lost and those children who had never loved a pet.

By the time I left for college I had grown up with five different dogs. I had endured the loss of sweet Mary, the boxer, when we moved to a small apartment and had to send her to a “farm.” I had watched 2-year-old Blackie experience a seizure that heralded his fatal bout with distemper. I shared the struggle with my parents as we made the decision to send my much loved inveterate car chasing “Butch” back to the pound.

However, I survived these losses and wonder whether they in some way prepared me for some of the emotional challenges that would come later in life. This study from Harvard sampled only children from birth to age 8 years. For those of us in primary care a more interesting study might be one that looked for any long-term associations between pet loss as a young child with adolescent and adult mental health. With the surge in pet ownership that has surfaced during the pandemic, there should be an abundance of clinical material to mine. The Harvard researchers’ findings should make us aware of the potential for psychopathology in a child who has suffered the loss of a pet. Each family must decide whether the plusses of pet ownership are worth the risk. However, I side with Tennyson who said it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

The big news in the Wilkoff household is that Marilyn and I will be celebrating the arrival of a granddog into our nuclear family. Our younger daughter and her husband will be welcoming into their home a golden retriever puppy the first week in March. This may not seem like big news to some families and is certainly a step down on the priority list to the arrival of the four grandchildren that we already claim on our resume. But, you must understand that no one in our family has ever owned a dog.

Although my wife’s family had a dog, she apparently never really bonded with the canine. My pleas and occasional whining from our three children to get a dog were always met with my wife’s concerns about cleanliness and hygiene. We did have an antisocial cat who lived under a bed in the guest room or in the basement. His passing after 16 years when the kids were in college was not an event marked with any emotion beyond relief.

I think I harbored an unspoken concern about how I and our children might respond emotionally and psychologically to the inevitable death of what would likely have become our family’s best friend. Dispatching a belly-up goldfish after a month or two is small potatoes compared to putting down a tail-wagging, frisbee-catching, four-footed member of the family.

It turns out that my concerns about the mental health of our children may not have been unfounded. A recently published study from the Harvard Medical School and Massachusetts General Hospital found that children who had experienced the death of a loved pet were more likely to exhibit symptoms of psychopathology than were those who had loved a pet who was still alive (Crawford et al. Eur Child Adolesc Psychiatry. 2020 Sep 10. doi: 10.1007/s00787-020-01594-5). The observed effect of the loss was more pronounced in boys. There was also no statistical difference between the psychopathology symptoms of those children who had loved and lost and those children who had never loved a pet.

By the time I left for college I had grown up with five different dogs. I had endured the loss of sweet Mary, the boxer, when we moved to a small apartment and had to send her to a “farm.” I had watched 2-year-old Blackie experience a seizure that heralded his fatal bout with distemper. I shared the struggle with my parents as we made the decision to send my much loved inveterate car chasing “Butch” back to the pound.

However, I survived these losses and wonder whether they in some way prepared me for some of the emotional challenges that would come later in life. This study from Harvard sampled only children from birth to age 8 years. For those of us in primary care a more interesting study might be one that looked for any long-term associations between pet loss as a young child with adolescent and adult mental health. With the surge in pet ownership that has surfaced during the pandemic, there should be an abundance of clinical material to mine. The Harvard researchers’ findings should make us aware of the potential for psychopathology in a child who has suffered the loss of a pet. Each family must decide whether the plusses of pet ownership are worth the risk. However, I side with Tennyson who said it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

The big news in the Wilkoff household is that Marilyn and I will be celebrating the arrival of a granddog into our nuclear family. Our younger daughter and her husband will be welcoming into their home a golden retriever puppy the first week in March. This may not seem like big news to some families and is certainly a step down on the priority list to the arrival of the four grandchildren that we already claim on our resume. But, you must understand that no one in our family has ever owned a dog.

Although my wife’s family had a dog, she apparently never really bonded with the canine. My pleas and occasional whining from our three children to get a dog were always met with my wife’s concerns about cleanliness and hygiene. We did have an antisocial cat who lived under a bed in the guest room or in the basement. His passing after 16 years when the kids were in college was not an event marked with any emotion beyond relief.

I think I harbored an unspoken concern about how I and our children might respond emotionally and psychologically to the inevitable death of what would likely have become our family’s best friend. Dispatching a belly-up goldfish after a month or two is small potatoes compared to putting down a tail-wagging, frisbee-catching, four-footed member of the family.

It turns out that my concerns about the mental health of our children may not have been unfounded. A recently published study from the Harvard Medical School and Massachusetts General Hospital found that children who had experienced the death of a loved pet were more likely to exhibit symptoms of psychopathology than were those who had loved a pet who was still alive (Crawford et al. Eur Child Adolesc Psychiatry. 2020 Sep 10. doi: 10.1007/s00787-020-01594-5). The observed effect of the loss was more pronounced in boys. There was also no statistical difference between the psychopathology symptoms of those children who had loved and lost and those children who had never loved a pet.

By the time I left for college I had grown up with five different dogs. I had endured the loss of sweet Mary, the boxer, when we moved to a small apartment and had to send her to a “farm.” I had watched 2-year-old Blackie experience a seizure that heralded his fatal bout with distemper. I shared the struggle with my parents as we made the decision to send my much loved inveterate car chasing “Butch” back to the pound.

However, I survived these losses and wonder whether they in some way prepared me for some of the emotional challenges that would come later in life. This study from Harvard sampled only children from birth to age 8 years. For those of us in primary care a more interesting study might be one that looked for any long-term associations between pet loss as a young child with adolescent and adult mental health. With the surge in pet ownership that has surfaced during the pandemic, there should be an abundance of clinical material to mine. The Harvard researchers’ findings should make us aware of the potential for psychopathology in a child who has suffered the loss of a pet. Each family must decide whether the plusses of pet ownership are worth the risk. However, I side with Tennyson who said it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

Does the name Bruce Lipton sound familiar to you? Until a few years ago the only bell that it rang with me was that I had a high school classmate named Bruce Lipton. I recall that his father owned the local grocery store and he was one of the most prolific pranksters in a class with a long history of prank playing. If the name dredges up any associations for you it may because you have heard of a PhD biologist who has written and lectured extensively on epigenetics. You may have even read his most widely published book, “The Biology of Belief.” It turns out the Epigenetics Guy and my high school prankster classmate are one and the same.

After decades of separation – he is in California and I’m here in Maine – we have reconnected via Zoom mini reunions that our class has organized to combat the isolation that has descended on us with the pandemic. While I haven’t read his books, I have watched and listened to some of his podcasts and lectures. The devilish twinkle in his eye in the 1950s and 1960s has provided the scaffolding on which he has built a charismatic and persuasive presentation style.

Bruce was no dummy in school but his early career as a cell biologist doing research in stem-cell function was a surprise to all of us. But then high school reunions are often full of surprises and should serve as good reminders of the danger of profiling and pigeon-holing adolescents.

Professor Lipton’s take on epigenetics boils down to the notion that our genome should merely be considered a blueprint and not the final determinant of who we are and what illnesses befall us. His research and observations suggest to him that there are an uncountable number extragenomic factors, including environmental conditions and our belief systems, that can influence how that blueprint is read and the resulting expression of the genes we have inherited.

At face value, Bruce’s basic premise falls very close to some of the conclusions I have toyed with in an attempt to explain what I have observed doing primary care pediatrics. For example, I have trouble blaming the meteoric rise of the ADHD phenomenon on a genetic mutation. I suspect there are likely to be extragenomic forces coming into play, such as sleep deprivation and changing child-rearing practices. In my Oct. 9, 2020, Letters from Maine column I referred to a Swedish twins study that suggested children from a family with a strong history of depression were more likely to develop depression when raised in an adopted family that experienced domestic turmoil. His philosophy also fits with my sense that I have more control over my own health outcomes than many other people.

However, Professor Lipton and I part company (just philosophically that is) when he slips into hyperbole and applies what he terms as the New Biology too broadly. He may be correct that the revolutionary changes which came in the wake of Watson and Crick’s double helix discovery have resulted in a view of pathophysiology that is overly focused on what we are learning about our genome. On the other hand it is refreshing to hear someone with his charismatic and persuasive skills question the status quo.

If you haven’t listened to what he has to say I urge you to browse the Internet and sample some of his talks. I am sure you will find what he has to say stimulating. I doubt you will buy his whole package but I suspect you may find some bits you can agree with.

It still boils down to the old nature versus nurture argument. He’s all in for nurture. I’m still more comfortable straddling the fence.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

Does the name Bruce Lipton sound familiar to you? Until a few years ago the only bell that it rang with me was that I had a high school classmate named Bruce Lipton. I recall that his father owned the local grocery store and he was one of the most prolific pranksters in a class with a long history of prank playing. If the name dredges up any associations for you it may because you have heard of a PhD biologist who has written and lectured extensively on epigenetics. You may have even read his most widely published book, “The Biology of Belief.” It turns out the Epigenetics Guy and my high school prankster classmate are one and the same.

After decades of separation – he is in California and I’m here in Maine – we have reconnected via Zoom mini reunions that our class has organized to combat the isolation that has descended on us with the pandemic. While I haven’t read his books, I have watched and listened to some of his podcasts and lectures. The devilish twinkle in his eye in the 1950s and 1960s has provided the scaffolding on which he has built a charismatic and persuasive presentation style.

Bruce was no dummy in school but his early career as a cell biologist doing research in stem-cell function was a surprise to all of us. But then high school reunions are often full of surprises and should serve as good reminders of the danger of profiling and pigeon-holing adolescents.

Professor Lipton’s take on epigenetics boils down to the notion that our genome should merely be considered a blueprint and not the final determinant of who we are and what illnesses befall us. His research and observations suggest to him that there are an uncountable number extragenomic factors, including environmental conditions and our belief systems, that can influence how that blueprint is read and the resulting expression of the genes we have inherited.

At face value, Bruce’s basic premise falls very close to some of the conclusions I have toyed with in an attempt to explain what I have observed doing primary care pediatrics. For example, I have trouble blaming the meteoric rise of the ADHD phenomenon on a genetic mutation. I suspect there are likely to be extragenomic forces coming into play, such as sleep deprivation and changing child-rearing practices. In my Oct. 9, 2020, Letters from Maine column I referred to a Swedish twins study that suggested children from a family with a strong history of depression were more likely to develop depression when raised in an adopted family that experienced domestic turmoil. His philosophy also fits with my sense that I have more control over my own health outcomes than many other people.

However, Professor Lipton and I part company (just philosophically that is) when he slips into hyperbole and applies what he terms as the New Biology too broadly. He may be correct that the revolutionary changes which came in the wake of Watson and Crick’s double helix discovery have resulted in a view of pathophysiology that is overly focused on what we are learning about our genome. On the other hand it is refreshing to hear someone with his charismatic and persuasive skills question the status quo.

If you haven’t listened to what he has to say I urge you to browse the Internet and sample some of his talks. I am sure you will find what he has to say stimulating. I doubt you will buy his whole package but I suspect you may find some bits you can agree with.

It still boils down to the old nature versus nurture argument. He’s all in for nurture. I’m still more comfortable straddling the fence.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

Does the name Bruce Lipton sound familiar to you? Until a few years ago the only bell that it rang with me was that I had a high school classmate named Bruce Lipton. I recall that his father owned the local grocery store and he was one of the most prolific pranksters in a class with a long history of prank playing. If the name dredges up any associations for you it may because you have heard of a PhD biologist who has written and lectured extensively on epigenetics. You may have even read his most widely published book, “The Biology of Belief.” It turns out the Epigenetics Guy and my high school prankster classmate are one and the same.

After decades of separation – he is in California and I’m here in Maine – we have reconnected via Zoom mini reunions that our class has organized to combat the isolation that has descended on us with the pandemic. While I haven’t read his books, I have watched and listened to some of his podcasts and lectures. The devilish twinkle in his eye in the 1950s and 1960s has provided the scaffolding on which he has built a charismatic and persuasive presentation style.

Bruce was no dummy in school but his early career as a cell biologist doing research in stem-cell function was a surprise to all of us. But then high school reunions are often full of surprises and should serve as good reminders of the danger of profiling and pigeon-holing adolescents.

Professor Lipton’s take on epigenetics boils down to the notion that our genome should merely be considered a blueprint and not the final determinant of who we are and what illnesses befall us. His research and observations suggest to him that there are an uncountable number extragenomic factors, including environmental conditions and our belief systems, that can influence how that blueprint is read and the resulting expression of the genes we have inherited.

At face value, Bruce’s basic premise falls very close to some of the conclusions I have toyed with in an attempt to explain what I have observed doing primary care pediatrics. For example, I have trouble blaming the meteoric rise of the ADHD phenomenon on a genetic mutation. I suspect there are likely to be extragenomic forces coming into play, such as sleep deprivation and changing child-rearing practices. In my Oct. 9, 2020, Letters from Maine column I referred to a Swedish twins study that suggested children from a family with a strong history of depression were more likely to develop depression when raised in an adopted family that experienced domestic turmoil. His philosophy also fits with my sense that I have more control over my own health outcomes than many other people.

However, Professor Lipton and I part company (just philosophically that is) when he slips into hyperbole and applies what he terms as the New Biology too broadly. He may be correct that the revolutionary changes which came in the wake of Watson and Crick’s double helix discovery have resulted in a view of pathophysiology that is overly focused on what we are learning about our genome. On the other hand it is refreshing to hear someone with his charismatic and persuasive skills question the status quo.

If you haven’t listened to what he has to say I urge you to browse the Internet and sample some of his talks. I am sure you will find what he has to say stimulating. I doubt you will buy his whole package but I suspect you may find some bits you can agree with.

It still boils down to the old nature versus nurture argument. He’s all in for nurture. I’m still more comfortable straddling the fence.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

Finding the current domestic and global situations too disheartening to write about, I have decided for the moment to take the long view in hopes of finding something to stimulate your imaginations. It appears that we have several vaccines effective against SARS-CoV-2 if not in your hands at the moment at least in someone’s freezer or at the very least somewhere near beginning of their journey in the production pipeline. It may be a year of more but thanks to the vaccines and herd immunity there will be a time when parents may feel more comfortable about bringing their children into your office. How are you going to dial back your office routine to something even vaguely familiar?

To keep your office afloat financially you have probably been forced to adopt and adapt telemedicine strategies to your practice style. Prior to the pandemic you may have been among the few who were actively experimenting with practicing remotely. But, it is more likely that you had given little serious thought to how you would manage your patients without them being physically present.

You probably carried in your mind a list of symptoms and complaints which you had promised yourself that you would never treat without first laying eyes and hands on the patient. You may have even codified this list into a set of guidelines that you included in the office manual for your nurses, assistants, and receptionists. You may have looked askance at some of your colleagues whom you felt too often treated their patients (and yours when they were covering) based on what seemed to be scanty information gleaned from a phone call. The impropriety of this kind of clinical behavior may have even come up at staff meetings or at least been the topic of hallway discussions.

How did your list of complaints that demanded an in-person visit evolve? I suspect that in large part it was formed as you modeled the behavior of your mentors and teachers. In some cases you may have heard of tragic cases in which a child had died or suffered serious consequences of being treated without an in-person evaluation. In many cases you were following a tradition or ethic that said treating in certain circumstances without an exam just wasn’t done.

Have the realities of the pandemic forced you to alter your list of must-see-before-I’ll-treat complaints? Have you found yourself calling in antibiotic prescriptions for children with ear pain who 1 year ago you would have told to come in for an office visit? Are you treating “strep throats” without a rapid strep test or culture? How many stimulant prescriptions have you refilled for children who haven’t been reevaluated in the office in over a year? How are you going to manage the tsunami of requests for sports physicals once the junior high and high school teams are allowed to return to action? You probably won’t have the time to examine all of the sports candidates who show up in your office with crumpled forms recently retrieved from crumb-filled backpacks.

Where are you going to reset the bar as the pandemic lifts and the barriers that have prevented patients from coming to your office over the last year or year and a half recede? Have you realized that many of your office visits in prepandemic times were unnecessary? How many children with otitis really needed to be followed up with an ear recheck visit? Which children with sore throats and a fever needed to be examined? Was a yearly exam really necessary for a high school sophomore who wanted to play basketball? Has your comfort zone widened to include more patient complaints that can be managed without a face to face encounter? Where will telemedicine fit into the mix?

At some time in the next 12 months you will have to recalibrate and reset the bar. It will probably be a gradual process that in large part can be molded by the responses of the families who may have also come to realize that seeing you in the office isn’t quite as necessary as you both may have thought it was.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected]

Finding the current domestic and global situations too disheartening to write about, I have decided for the moment to take the long view in hopes of finding something to stimulate your imaginations. It appears that we have several vaccines effective against SARS-CoV-2 if not in your hands at the moment at least in someone’s freezer or at the very least somewhere near beginning of their journey in the production pipeline. It may be a year of more but thanks to the vaccines and herd immunity there will be a time when parents may feel more comfortable about bringing their children into your office. How are you going to dial back your office routine to something even vaguely familiar?

To keep your office afloat financially you have probably been forced to adopt and adapt telemedicine strategies to your practice style. Prior to the pandemic you may have been among the few who were actively experimenting with practicing remotely. But, it is more likely that you had given little serious thought to how you would manage your patients without them being physically present.

You probably carried in your mind a list of symptoms and complaints which you had promised yourself that you would never treat without first laying eyes and hands on the patient. You may have even codified this list into a set of guidelines that you included in the office manual for your nurses, assistants, and receptionists. You may have looked askance at some of your colleagues whom you felt too often treated their patients (and yours when they were covering) based on what seemed to be scanty information gleaned from a phone call. The impropriety of this kind of clinical behavior may have even come up at staff meetings or at least been the topic of hallway discussions.

How did your list of complaints that demanded an in-person visit evolve? I suspect that in large part it was formed as you modeled the behavior of your mentors and teachers. In some cases you may have heard of tragic cases in which a child had died or suffered serious consequences of being treated without an in-person evaluation. In many cases you were following a tradition or ethic that said treating in certain circumstances without an exam just wasn’t done.

Have the realities of the pandemic forced you to alter your list of must-see-before-I’ll-treat complaints? Have you found yourself calling in antibiotic prescriptions for children with ear pain who 1 year ago you would have told to come in for an office visit? Are you treating “strep throats” without a rapid strep test or culture? How many stimulant prescriptions have you refilled for children who haven’t been reevaluated in the office in over a year? How are you going to manage the tsunami of requests for sports physicals once the junior high and high school teams are allowed to return to action? You probably won’t have the time to examine all of the sports candidates who show up in your office with crumpled forms recently retrieved from crumb-filled backpacks.

Where are you going to reset the bar as the pandemic lifts and the barriers that have prevented patients from coming to your office over the last year or year and a half recede? Have you realized that many of your office visits in prepandemic times were unnecessary? How many children with otitis really needed to be followed up with an ear recheck visit? Which children with sore throats and a fever needed to be examined? Was a yearly exam really necessary for a high school sophomore who wanted to play basketball? Has your comfort zone widened to include more patient complaints that can be managed without a face to face encounter? Where will telemedicine fit into the mix?

At some time in the next 12 months you will have to recalibrate and reset the bar. It will probably be a gradual process that in large part can be molded by the responses of the families who may have also come to realize that seeing you in the office isn’t quite as necessary as you both may have thought it was.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected]

Finding the current domestic and global situations too disheartening to write about, I have decided for the moment to take the long view in hopes of finding something to stimulate your imaginations. It appears that we have several vaccines effective against SARS-CoV-2 if not in your hands at the moment at least in someone’s freezer or at the very least somewhere near beginning of their journey in the production pipeline. It may be a year of more but thanks to the vaccines and herd immunity there will be a time when parents may feel more comfortable about bringing their children into your office. How are you going to dial back your office routine to something even vaguely familiar?

To keep your office afloat financially you have probably been forced to adopt and adapt telemedicine strategies to your practice style. Prior to the pandemic you may have been among the few who were actively experimenting with practicing remotely. But, it is more likely that you had given little serious thought to how you would manage your patients without them being physically present.

You probably carried in your mind a list of symptoms and complaints which you had promised yourself that you would never treat without first laying eyes and hands on the patient. You may have even codified this list into a set of guidelines that you included in the office manual for your nurses, assistants, and receptionists. You may have looked askance at some of your colleagues whom you felt too often treated their patients (and yours when they were covering) based on what seemed to be scanty information gleaned from a phone call. The impropriety of this kind of clinical behavior may have even come up at staff meetings or at least been the topic of hallway discussions.

How did your list of complaints that demanded an in-person visit evolve? I suspect that in large part it was formed as you modeled the behavior of your mentors and teachers. In some cases you may have heard of tragic cases in which a child had died or suffered serious consequences of being treated without an in-person evaluation. In many cases you were following a tradition or ethic that said treating in certain circumstances without an exam just wasn’t done.

Have the realities of the pandemic forced you to alter your list of must-see-before-I’ll-treat complaints? Have you found yourself calling in antibiotic prescriptions for children with ear pain who 1 year ago you would have told to come in for an office visit? Are you treating “strep throats” without a rapid strep test or culture? How many stimulant prescriptions have you refilled for children who haven’t been reevaluated in the office in over a year? How are you going to manage the tsunami of requests for sports physicals once the junior high and high school teams are allowed to return to action? You probably won’t have the time to examine all of the sports candidates who show up in your office with crumpled forms recently retrieved from crumb-filled backpacks.

Where are you going to reset the bar as the pandemic lifts and the barriers that have prevented patients from coming to your office over the last year or year and a half recede? Have you realized that many of your office visits in prepandemic times were unnecessary? How many children with otitis really needed to be followed up with an ear recheck visit? Which children with sore throats and a fever needed to be examined? Was a yearly exam really necessary for a high school sophomore who wanted to play basketball? Has your comfort zone widened to include more patient complaints that can be managed without a face to face encounter? Where will telemedicine fit into the mix?

At some time in the next 12 months you will have to recalibrate and reset the bar. It will probably be a gradual process that in large part can be molded by the responses of the families who may have also come to realize that seeing you in the office isn’t quite as necessary as you both may have thought it was.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected]

Do you accept new families into your practice who have already chosen to not have their children immunized? What about families who have been in your practice for several months or years? In 2016 the American Academy of Pediatrics published a clinical report in which it stated that, under some circumstances, dismissing families who refuse to vaccinate is permissible. Have you felt sufficiently supported by that statement and dismissed any families after multiple attempts at education on your part?

In a Pediatrics Perspective article in the December issue of Pediatrics, two philosophers and a physician make the argument that, while in some situations dismissing a family who refuses vaccines may be “an ethically acceptable option” refusing to accept a family with the same philosophy is not. It is an interesting paper and worth reading regardless of whether or not you already accept and continue to tolerate vaccine deniers in your practice.

The Pediatrics Perspective is certainly not the last word on the ethics of caring for families who deny their children care that we believe is critical to their health and the welfare of the community at large. There has been a lot of discussion about the issue but little has been written about how we as the physicians on the front line are coping emotionally with what the authors of the paper call the “burdens associated with treating” families who refuse to follow our guidance.

It is hard not to feel angry when a family you have invested valuable office time in discussing the benefits and safety of vaccines continues to disregard what you see as the facts. The time you have spent with them is not just income-generating time for your practice, it is time stolen from other families who are more willing to follow your recommendations. In how many visits will you continue to raise the issue? Unless I saw a glimmer of hope I would usually stop after two wasted encounters. But, the issue would still linger as the elephant in the examination room for as long as I continued to see the patient.

How have you expressed your anger? Have you been argumentative or rude? You may have been able maintain your composure and remain civil and appear caring, but I suspect the anger is still gnawing at you. And, there is still the frustration and feeling of impotence. You may have questioned your ability as an educator. You should get over that notion quickly. There is ample evidence that most vaccine deniers are not going to be convinced by even the most carefully presented information. I suggest you leave it to others to try their hands at education. Let them invest their time while you tend to the needs of your other patients. You can try being a fear monger and, while fear can be effective, you have better ways to spend your office day than telling horror stories.

If vaccine denial makes you feel powerless, you should get over that pretty quickly as well and accept the fact that you are simply an advisor. If you believe that most of the families in your practice are following your recommendations as though you had presented them on stone tablets, it is time for a wakeup call.

Finally, there is the most troubling emotion associated with vaccine refusal and that is fear, the fear of being sued. Establishing a relationship with a family is one that requires mutual trust and certainly vaccine refusal will put that trust in question, particularly if you have done a less than adequate job of hiding your anger and frustration with their unfortunate decision.

For now, vaccine refusal is just another one of those crosses that those of us in primary care must bear together wearing the best face we can put forward. That doesn’t mean we can’t share those emotions with our peers. Misery does love company.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

Do you accept new families into your practice who have already chosen to not have their children immunized? What about families who have been in your practice for several months or years? In 2016 the American Academy of Pediatrics published a clinical report in which it stated that, under some circumstances, dismissing families who refuse to vaccinate is permissible. Have you felt sufficiently supported by that statement and dismissed any families after multiple attempts at education on your part?

In a Pediatrics Perspective article in the December issue of Pediatrics, two philosophers and a physician make the argument that, while in some situations dismissing a family who refuses vaccines may be “an ethically acceptable option” refusing to accept a family with the same philosophy is not. It is an interesting paper and worth reading regardless of whether or not you already accept and continue to tolerate vaccine deniers in your practice.

The Pediatrics Perspective is certainly not the last word on the ethics of caring for families who deny their children care that we believe is critical to their health and the welfare of the community at large. There has been a lot of discussion about the issue but little has been written about how we as the physicians on the front line are coping emotionally with what the authors of the paper call the “burdens associated with treating” families who refuse to follow our guidance.

It is hard not to feel angry when a family you have invested valuable office time in discussing the benefits and safety of vaccines continues to disregard what you see as the facts. The time you have spent with them is not just income-generating time for your practice, it is time stolen from other families who are more willing to follow your recommendations. In how many visits will you continue to raise the issue? Unless I saw a glimmer of hope I would usually stop after two wasted encounters. But, the issue would still linger as the elephant in the examination room for as long as I continued to see the patient.

How have you expressed your anger? Have you been argumentative or rude? You may have been able maintain your composure and remain civil and appear caring, but I suspect the anger is still gnawing at you. And, there is still the frustration and feeling of impotence. You may have questioned your ability as an educator. You should get over that notion quickly. There is ample evidence that most vaccine deniers are not going to be convinced by even the most carefully presented information. I suggest you leave it to others to try their hands at education. Let them invest their time while you tend to the needs of your other patients. You can try being a fear monger and, while fear can be effective, you have better ways to spend your office day than telling horror stories.

If vaccine denial makes you feel powerless, you should get over that pretty quickly as well and accept the fact that you are simply an advisor. If you believe that most of the families in your practice are following your recommendations as though you had presented them on stone tablets, it is time for a wakeup call.

Finally, there is the most troubling emotion associated with vaccine refusal and that is fear, the fear of being sued. Establishing a relationship with a family is one that requires mutual trust and certainly vaccine refusal will put that trust in question, particularly if you have done a less than adequate job of hiding your anger and frustration with their unfortunate decision.

For now, vaccine refusal is just another one of those crosses that those of us in primary care must bear together wearing the best face we can put forward. That doesn’t mean we can’t share those emotions with our peers. Misery does love company.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

Do you accept new families into your practice who have already chosen to not have their children immunized? What about families who have been in your practice for several months or years? In 2016 the American Academy of Pediatrics published a clinical report in which it stated that, under some circumstances, dismissing families who refuse to vaccinate is permissible. Have you felt sufficiently supported by that statement and dismissed any families after multiple attempts at education on your part?

In a Pediatrics Perspective article in the December issue of Pediatrics, two philosophers and a physician make the argument that, while in some situations dismissing a family who refuses vaccines may be “an ethically acceptable option” refusing to accept a family with the same philosophy is not. It is an interesting paper and worth reading regardless of whether or not you already accept and continue to tolerate vaccine deniers in your practice.

The Pediatrics Perspective is certainly not the last word on the ethics of caring for families who deny their children care that we believe is critical to their health and the welfare of the community at large. There has been a lot of discussion about the issue but little has been written about how we as the physicians on the front line are coping emotionally with what the authors of the paper call the “burdens associated with treating” families who refuse to follow our guidance.

It is hard not to feel angry when a family you have invested valuable office time in discussing the benefits and safety of vaccines continues to disregard what you see as the facts. The time you have spent with them is not just income-generating time for your practice, it is time stolen from other families who are more willing to follow your recommendations. In how many visits will you continue to raise the issue? Unless I saw a glimmer of hope I would usually stop after two wasted encounters. But, the issue would still linger as the elephant in the examination room for as long as I continued to see the patient.

How have you expressed your anger? Have you been argumentative or rude? You may have been able maintain your composure and remain civil and appear caring, but I suspect the anger is still gnawing at you. And, there is still the frustration and feeling of impotence. You may have questioned your ability as an educator. You should get over that notion quickly. There is ample evidence that most vaccine deniers are not going to be convinced by even the most carefully presented information. I suggest you leave it to others to try their hands at education. Let them invest their time while you tend to the needs of your other patients. You can try being a fear monger and, while fear can be effective, you have better ways to spend your office day than telling horror stories.

If vaccine denial makes you feel powerless, you should get over that pretty quickly as well and accept the fact that you are simply an advisor. If you believe that most of the families in your practice are following your recommendations as though you had presented them on stone tablets, it is time for a wakeup call.

Finally, there is the most troubling emotion associated with vaccine refusal and that is fear, the fear of being sued. Establishing a relationship with a family is one that requires mutual trust and certainly vaccine refusal will put that trust in question, particularly if you have done a less than adequate job of hiding your anger and frustration with their unfortunate decision.

For now, vaccine refusal is just another one of those crosses that those of us in primary care must bear together wearing the best face we can put forward. That doesn’t mean we can’t share those emotions with our peers. Misery does love company.
 

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

In a recent New York Times opinion article, author Aubrey Gordon claims that since a visit to her pediatrician in fourth grade she has felt like an “enemy combatant in the nation’s war on childhood obesity.” (“Leave Fat Kids Alone,” Nov. 13, 2020).

At that unfortunate encounter, she recalls being told that “You’ll be thin and beautiful ... If you can just stay the same weight.” In retrospect she feels that the comment by her well-meaning but misguided physician “planted the seeds of depression” that have plagued her ever since.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

In a recent New York Times opinion article, author Aubrey Gordon claims that since a visit to her pediatrician in fourth grade she has felt like an “enemy combatant in the nation’s war on childhood obesity.” (“Leave Fat Kids Alone,” Nov. 13, 2020).

At that unfortunate encounter, she recalls being told that “You’ll be thin and beautiful ... If you can just stay the same weight.” In retrospect she feels that the comment by her well-meaning but misguided physician “planted the seeds of depression” that have plagued her ever since.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].

In a recent New York Times opinion article, author Aubrey Gordon claims that since a visit to her pediatrician in fourth grade she has felt like an “enemy combatant in the nation’s war on childhood obesity.” (“Leave Fat Kids Alone,” Nov. 13, 2020).

At that unfortunate encounter, she recalls being told that “You’ll be thin and beautiful ... If you can just stay the same weight.” In retrospect she feels that the comment by her well-meaning but misguided physician “planted the seeds of depression” that have plagued her ever since.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at [email protected].